Into Your Hideout
by dopedupdawl
Summary: Santana's been functioning as a shell of a person for longer than she cares to remember. Can the absolute least likely person make her actually feel something again?  Established Brittana/Pucktana, eventual Pezberry. Quinntana friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Glee and its characters are not mine, nor are the songs, but the story is. If Glee were mine the ENTIRE cast would be gay. No joke.**

**Author's Note: My first fic! This is the first bit of creative writing I've done in quite some time. That being said, feel free to tear it to shreds (: (I've also never written in an active tense before, so we'll see how that works out...) Hope you enjoy!**

**A/N2: I'll try to publish once a week, but I make no promises...**

**A/N 3: I've named Brit's as-yet-unnamed little sister 'Becca', which is probably short for Rebecca. I never really thought about it until now...**

_

* * *

_

_I should be happy_, she thinks to herself. _For all intents and purposes, I should really be fucking ecstatic._

She stares down her body to her twined hands, possibly feeling more depressed than she has ever felt before despite how objectively happy this moment should be. Her knuckles whiten and start to hurt from the pressure she's exerting into her grip. She faintly registers the raucous noise and presence of others around her, her senses muted by her internal dialogue.

_Why aren't I happy? This doesn't make any sense._ She stays lost in her thoughts, the coolness of the wall against her back at once refreshing and unsettling.

With a rush of internal panic, she suddenly becomes hyperaware of the fact that she is outwardly scowling and, in objection, allows her lips to hesitantly curl upwards at the edges. Realistically, the smile should fool no one―the forlorn look in her eyes and defeated posture easily betraying the now half-smile on her face. Apparently no one cares to notice. She scoffs to herself, _Figures._

A few thoughtful moments pass before she feels a soft hand come to rest on her bare shoulder. "We really did it, didn't we." It's really more a statement of fact than a question.

She straightens instinctively from her position, chancing a small glance to her left without lifting her head completely. A petite figure has taken to leaning on the wall next to her.

"Seems so," she responds blandly, gritting her teeth. She honestly has no interest in taking up conversation with anyone right now, let alone the specific person standing beside her, burning a hole into the side of her head. She shrugs the hand off of her shoulder, as if to make that point vehemently clear.

"So... given the joyous occasion, why do you look so depressed?" the voice presses.

_Fuck._ She'd been caught. Though she mildly appreciates the fact that someone actually noticed and cares to ask, on the face of it she hates it.

Without looking up, she scoffs outwardly, summoning the best bitch-attitude she can manage at the moment, "Listen Man-Hands, if I wanted to talk about my feelings I'd talk to... well, I'd talk to anyone who _wasn't _you." She winces internally; not so much at the words spoken as at the lack of fire and obvious exhaustion behind them.

She keeps her sight rested somewhere between her hands and her feet, but can almost feel Rachel roll her eyes.

"Whatever, Santana, just don't say I didn't offer," the shorter brunette says, hands up in a gesture of submission.

Santana can't resist the opportunity to pounce. She steels herself, tightening her jaw and spinning to face the girl at her left, taking aggressive steps forward. "Look Stubbles," she jabs her index finger into Rachel's chest, the fire back in her voice. "I don't want your fucking offers. It's embarrassing to even acknowledge the fact you're talking to me, so why don't you just go Dr. Phil someone else?"

Santana continues to advance and Rachel's defeated expression morphs into one of fear as she stumbles backwards and onto the floor. Santana stops and quirks an eyebrow, offering the first true smile she's had all day. Rachel quickly scurries up from the ground and back towards the group, leaving Santana thoroughly satisfied and not caring if anyone else bore witness to the spectacle.

It's junior year, New Directions just won Sectionals, and the fact of the matter is Santana Lopez just doesn't fucking care.

* * *

The after party is at Puck's house. _Thank fucking Christ._

Santana nurses her third beer as she sits on the kitchen floor, leaning back against the cupboards. Elbows resting on her raised knees, she fiddles with the label on the bottle. The music and loud voices are actually starting to grate on her a lot more than she'd like to admit. She takes a long swig from the bottle and runs her fingers almost violently through her hair as her head pounds along with the music.

A lithe blonde bounces into the kitchen, smile stretching from ear to ear. The extent to which she's been drinking that evening becomes evident as she not-so-elegantly plops down next to the depressed Latina.

A pale hand comes to rest on Santana's jean-clad knee. "Hey S," she coos as she leans close, her breath tickling against Santana's ear as her hand slides down to Santana's inner thigh.

The brunette can't help but smile a little, "Hey B, having a good night?" she asks as she turns her head towards the blonde, their lips inches apart.

Brittany's eyes roll over Santana's body, "Yeah... you could make it better though," she concludes, locking her eyes with Santana's and squeezing her inner thigh suggestively.

A shot of darkness enters Santana's eyes and her mouth runs slightly dry in response to Brittany's proposition. She breaks eye contact, looking at the bottle in her hands in thought.

_Fuck it._ Santana lifts the bottle to her lips, chugging down the remainder of the lukewarm libation. She clunks the empty bottle on the floor to her right, and in a swift and rough move turns left, grabbing Brittany's neck and smashing their lips together.

There's no preamble, no romance, nothing sweet about it―things are immediately heated. Santana bites into Brittany's lower lip unforgivingly, causing a small gasp of pain to come from the blonde. Santana doesn't pause. She takes the opportunity and shoves her tongue into Brit's mouth, tasting the remnants of vodka and cranberry juice with a slight metallic flavour. She drew blood, and she loves it.

Santana breaks the kiss, pushing Brittany back with both hands on either side of her face. "Let's get the fuck out of here," she practically demands.

Santana stands abruptly and pulls Brittany roughly up by her hand. She doesn't stop to wave, let alone say, goodbye to anyone―not even Puck―as she beelines for the front door. She continues along, practically dragging Brit down the street as she thanks God or whoever that she lives only a couple blocks away.

Santana pulls Brittany all the way to her empty house, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom, shoving her unceremoniously onto the bed. She jumps flush on top of the blonde and starts an immediate assault on her pulse point, hands ripping at the front of Brittany's jeans. Santana lifts her hips and leans her shoulder onto the bed to gain better access.

Once she has the button open and fly down, she shoves her hand down Brittany's underwear and forces two fingers in roughly, delivering a bite of equal force to the girl's neck at the same moment. Brittany practically wails in pain and Santana smiles against her neck. _She's mine._

This is exactly what she needs―a rough and fast fuck; no emotion, no 'love-making,' just sex. That's all Santana's good for anyway.

* * *

She wakes with a groan, feeling the dead weight of a sleeping body on her right side. _This would be so much easier if she didn't have to cuddle._

Sleeping with Brittany is always fun, and always gets the job done, but Santana absolutely hates waking up all lovey-dovey, being spooned by the blonde―which was curiously the way they always woke up. Sleeping with Puck, though less satisfying, was so much easier. There was no emotional investment, no friendship to worry about altering, there was no _spooning_―often there wasn't even a shared bed―and there were certainly no words of affection beyond the occasional dirty talk. Santana could cede to linking pinkies in school hallways, the most minute show of affection to the blonde, but even the thought of anything beyond that makes her cringe... especially now.

Last night, Brittany―possibly due to the extreme amount of alcohol consumed, or maybe even in a moment of sex-induced weakness―had said it. She had said the 'L' word to Santana. _'I love you, S.'_ the words play over and over again in Santana's mind. She wrenches her eyes shut again, trying to push the thought away. Little colloquial partings like 'Kisses!' or 'Love ya!' were totally fine by Santana, but Brittany's utterance was neither. Not a simple colloquialism and not a parting. Santana shakes her head, trying once again to free it of the thought.

Her focus shifts to how stiff her back is. She tries to stretch, but can't do so comfortably while still half-trapped under Brittany's weight. She opens her eyes and stares down, noticing for the first time that the blonde's arm is hooked possessively around her waist. _This has gotta stop,_ she thinks to herself.

She turns her head towards the clock on the nightstand. 6:56 am. _What. The. Fuck._ She decides to force her eyes shut and make a college try at falling back asleep―after all, they had just passed out 4 hours prior―trying to ignore the pain.

After a half hour of trying to fight her way back into dreamland, only to be greeted by Brittany's 'I love you's, she finally gives up. Her minute consideration of Brittany's sleep having slipped into frustration, she swiftly removes the blonde's arm and climbs out of the bed. To her delight, Brittany merely groans and turns over, trying to fall back asleep and fight her impending hangover.

Santana heads to her own room to her dresser and dresses herself in a pair of running shorts and a WMHS track shirt. Grabbing her iPod from her desk, she starts towards the stairwell but bypasses it, pausing in the doorway of the master to glance over Brittany. The blonde has curled into the foetal position, pulling the sheets over her head to block out the morning sunlight seeping in through the blinds. _I should probably close those..._ the brunette muses before scoffing aloud, shoving her earbuds in, and heading out.

A run always helps Santana work out her thoughts―'work out' in the sense that it removes them from her head. As she starts her run through the park, she focuses on the pounding beat of the music coming into her ears and the vibrating beat of her feet hitting the pavement at an even pace.

It's a beautiful day, but Santana fails to notice. She can't hear the birds chirping with her headphones in, can't feel the soft sun as she runs away from it, can't see the beautiful pond to the left of the winding path she's moving along as she stares down at the pavement. She also doesn't see a figure catch up to her and start to keep pace.

She feels a tap on her right shoulder and turns quickly, on instinct, ready to throw a left hook. There stands Quinn, hands up, slightly cringing and hoping Santana doesn't follow through.

"Quinn, what the fuck?" Santana yells, dropping her raised fist and yanking her earphones out, as the two now stand still facing each other.

"Whoa, easy tiger; I'm just surprised to see you out here so early. You stayed pretty late at the party and I heard you took B home... that usually leads to a pretty late morning," she smirks.

Santana puts her hands on her hips, weight leaning to one side ready to strike venom, but slowly she realizes she's just too sleep deprived to do so. On the bright side, Q is one of her good friends. _Or at least a frienemy,_ she thinks to herself. For a moment she actually considers confiding in Quinn about Brittany's confession and the total mindfuck it has lead to. The momentary vulnerability flashes on her face, leading Quinn to press on.

"Seriously S, you can talk to me. It's not like we're fighting over captain anymore or anything like that, and I'd like to think that even _you_ can see I'm not the complete and utter bitch I was last year..." hazel eyes offer sincerely.

Santana runs her hand through her hair, seriously considering Quinn's proposal. It is true that the two have become better friends since Quinn's not-so-immaculate conception, but it still feels new and Santana often finds herself doubting the blonde's loyalty. After turning the idea over a few times, she decides not to take the chance, lest her dirty laundry become Monday's fodder for the WMHS masses. Instead she decides to do what she always does: she tightens her posture and rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.

"Look Tubbers," she says with a bit less bite than she had hoped. "I'm out here for a run, not a counselling session. If you want to keep up, that's your prerogative, but I'm out," she concludes, replacing her earbuds and leaving the blonde behind shaking her head.

Santana continues to run by herself until she starts to feel physically ill, finally surrendering and dropping onto a bench with her chest heaving. She'd run the loop quite a few times and ends up sitting right in front of the pond. The sun has gotten much hotter during the course of her run―unusually hot for a late-fall day. She leans back with her eyes closed and her arms resting over the back of the bench. The warm, sun-baked wood soothes her aching back and (now) sore thighs as the sun itself starts to dry the sweat on her face and body.

She feels the weight of the bench shift and looks to her right. She sighs, "Look Q, I know we've become better friends and all that, but it doesn't mean I'm gonna share my innermost thoughts and feelings with you like we're fucking BFFs or whatever."

Quinn raises her hands in defeat, and Santana realizes that she's seen that gesture a lot lately. The blonde, who has apparently gone home and come back given her costume change, drops her hands and reaches into a bag at the side of the bench, retrieving a water bottle and offering it to Santana. The Latina raises a questioning eyebrow, but reluctantly accepts the water. Quinn sighs and redirects her gaze to the pond in front of them.

"Santana," she starts, the exhaustion in her voice partly due to her own run and partly in reaction to the brunette's continued petulance. "I'm just sitting down. It's a nice day, you know―probably the last one of the year―," she glances at the brunette, noting her closed eyes. "It wouldn't hurt you to take in the view."

At this, Santana looks over at the blonde and follows her gaze out to the relatively picturesque scene in front of them. The usually brown water is reflecting a serene blue-green shade in the mid-morning sun. Insects are flitting along the surface, adolescent ducks frolicking around in the water... _Ducks,_ Santana sighs as her mind drifts to Brittany and the whole fucked up situation. She takes a quick swig of water, as if it will wash away her thoughts. She glances at her watch, which reads 10:13 am. She can hardly believe that she's been running for over 2 hours. Undoubtedly Brittany has woken up by now, Santana just hopes that the aloof blonde has already done her walk of shame.

Santana stays, though, and cheerio and ex-cheerio continue to sit quietly next to each other. Santana's emotional state actually starts to border on content, despite the pronounced growl of hunger from her stomach.

"I'm guessing she told you," Quinn hazards, breaking the comfortable silence but keeping her eyes on the water.

Santana stays silent in shock, unsure of what to say or how to say it.

Quinn realizes she's not going to receive a response and continues, "And from your silence, I'm guessing you didn't say it back." She raises her eyes and looks at the side of Santana's head.

Santana drops her head to rest on the back of the bench again, staring up at the clouds. She really doesn't want to have this conversation. _Why can't she just fuck off already?_

"She's stupid, you know." Quinn says absently.

Santana's head snaps back up and she steels her gaze on hazel eyes, ready to tear Quinn's throat out. Santana may not return Brittany's affections, but B's still her girl and she isn't about to let anyone smack talk her, least of all the poster child for teenage pregnancy.

As Quinn realizes the Latina's about to snap, she raises a finger to stop the oncoming verbal assault and elaborates, "She doesn't get that it would never work... she's too good for you."

It's said simply, and while Santana's rage initially flares to epic proportions, it quickly subsides and she sinks back into the bench and into complacency. She shifts her gaze back to the ducks and sighs, "You're right."

* * *

By the time Santana gets back to her house it's closing in on noon. The house is empty, as expected (and as hoped). Sometime during her near-five-hour-absence the blonde dancer had found her way out. Santana ambles into the kitchen, where she proceeds to grab a glass of water and a granola bar. She sits on one of the stools at the counter and starts to eat. She gets through about half of the bar before she notices that the phone base is flashing for new voicemail.

She hops off the stool and makes her way over, grabbing an apple along the way. The machine indicates 2 new messages. She bites into her apple and hits play on the first one.

'Hey mija, just wanted to check in. I know it's been a while,' _Understatement of the year_, Santana thinks. '―but I've been super busy. Keeping a job isn't easy out here. Anyway, I still don't really have a phone set up, so you won't be able to reach me. I'll call again when I have the time. Oh, I transferred you some more money so you should be ok for awhile. And remember if you have any emergencies to call abuela. Be good, mija.'

In fact it had been over a month since Santana had heard from her mother, who had taken a 'business trip' to California six months ago and not yet returned. Apparently she had found 'work,' which Santana knew was code for 'a boyfriend'. At the beginning of the 'trip' the calls came a few times a week, then once a week, then bi-weekly, and now monthly.

Santana sighs and hovers her hand over the repeat button for a few pensive moments. As angry as she is at the whole situation, she still misses her mother. Though she hates to admit it, hearing her mother's voice―even over the phone―is as reassuring and comforting as it is infuriating. She furrows her brow, steels her nerves and shifts her hand to hit the delete button. _Fuck her. She doesn't care._

She takes another bite of her apple and decides to listen to the second message as well.

'Hey S, sorry if I was super drunk last night but I'm pretty sure I had a good time. I don't know what was in those drinks but they didn't taste as magic as Puck said they would. Mostly they just tasted like cranberries and burning.' Santana rolls her eyes. 'Anyway, I should go, we have to take Becca to the dentist today. So... call me back if you want to hang out tonight.' The line goes silent. _Maybe she forgot_, Santana hopes. 'I love you. Bye.'

_Shit._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N 1: I'm in a groove so I figured I'd post early rather than waiting for next week. However, I just want to cover my ass by warning you not to expect 2 updates on a weekly basis ;) My writing schedule is going to be entirely contingent on how rough my workload gets this semester.**

**A/N 2: Forgot to mention previously, this story is slightly AU in that Sam never existed―his oddly shaped jaw doesn't fit into my story―and RACHEL NEVER GOT BANGS CUZ NO.**

* * *

Santana walks into school on Monday feeling nervous as shit. She had holed up in her house for the remainder of the weekend, hoping to avoid any contact with a certain blonde. She spent Saturday night alone chugging down a fifth of vodka, trying to drown her worries since nothing else seemed to be working. Rather than planning out the way that she had hoped, it had resulted in a crushing Sunday hangover and more time spent wallowing in her own thoughts than she could have ever imagined. And yet, despite nearly going stir-crazy after close to 48 hours spent indoors in isolation, right now Santana can think of nothing other than how much she wishes she had stayed home today.

She quickly opens her locker as she notices a head of blonde hair approaching in her periphery, wanting at least that thin wall of metal between them. She hears the footsteps come to a stop, releases a deep sigh and braces herself to come face-to-face with the one person she wants least to see.

"You know, even if you don't love her you should at least talk to her." A voice prods from the opposite side of the locker door.

_Okay, not Brit. _Santana muses, unable to decide whether she's elated or infuriated that it's this particular blonde, prying into her business once again. She rustles some papers in her locker in a weak attempt to make the door barrier seem necessary. "Q, you need to stop stalking my life. It's getting pretty creepster," she responds, exhaustedly.

Quinn softly pushes the Latina's locker closed, noting that she's clearly done whatever she was doing. Santana continues staring straight ahead at the locker door.

"S," Quinn pauses for a couple seconds, seemingly unsure of how to phrase what she wants to say. "Look, I know you're all 'Miss Untouchable' or whatever, but it's obvious that you feel _something_ for Brit. If it's not enough, then let her go... because this little fuck-buddy situation you've got going on is just gonna hurt her―you know she won't leave, not even if you ruin her." With that, Quinn spins on her heel and takes off down the hall. Santana drops her forehead to rest on the cool metal of the locker and stares after her for a short while, internally noting how odd it still is to see the blonde bouncing down the hall in normal clothes rather than a cheerios uniform.

The bell rings, rousing Santana's attention. Following Quinn's uplifting morning pep-talk she decides that class is just not happening. She replaces her lock on her locker and heads toward the choir room, aware of the fact the classroom is empty during first period.

Brittany's first period class is along her route and Santana decides to hazard a peek into the room through the small glass panel on the back door. Brittany is in her assigned seat, near the back of the class, shooting concerned glances to the empty seat next to her that Santana should be occupying. Santana almost feels a pang of guilt―_almost_.

She stands there for a few seconds, just staring. She thinks over what Quinn said. _Do I have feelings for her? I mean, I guess there's _something_... we've pretty much known each other forever. But it's obviously not love. I mean, I don't love. It just doesn't happen._

She shakes her head free of her thoughts, something she's become so accustomed to doing, and walks on toward the choir room.

When she reaches the door it's slightly ajar, and she can tell that someone is inside by the lilting piano notes flowing out. She grabs the doorknob, pulling the door open slightly, and peeks her head in to see a small brunette perched on the piano bench, eyes closed, seemingly trying to find the music in her head.

_Ugh, Berry._ She thinks to herself. She leans against the outside of the doorframe and stares down at her hand on the knob, trying to decide whether or not to enter the classroom. As she's making her decision the music stops. She looks up and notices that Rachel has spun around on the bench and is now facing her, a look somewhat akin to fear gracing her features.

"Santana..." she draws out warily. "Aren't you supposed to be in Spanish with Mr. Schue right now?"

Santana rolls her eyes, mentally reprimanding herself for not getting out while she had the chance. Outwardly she shrugs as she enters the room. "Whatever. Spanish is like my first language anyway, it doesn't really make sense that they make me take it in school."

The Latina settles on her typical seat in the back row. Rachel is silent for a few moments as she mentally replays Santana's response, honestly taken aback by the fact that it was seemingly devoid of any insults.

"I suppose it does seem quite unnecessary. I mean, you could probably skip all the classes and still ace the exam, right?" A somewhat awkward lull in conversation follows and Rachel fiddles with the buttons on her cardigan for a few seconds before finally feeling the need to fill the silence. "As for me, I spend first period in here almost every day. I have a spare," she adds, relatively sure that this is the closest thing to a civil conversation the two have ever had.

Santana doesn't respond, rather choosing to lie down across some of the chairs with her head resting on her backpack. Rachel takes this as a cue to return to her playing. Santana's eyes drift closed as Rachel plays on.

"I didn't know you could play piano," Santana hears a tired voice say, her eyes snapping open embarrassingly as she realizes the voice came from her own mouth. Santana's suddenly quite glad that the row of chairs in front of her is blocking Rachel's view of her face.

Rachel turns back towards Santana hesitantly, unsure of why the Latina is even paying her any mind. "Um... well... the funny thing is I don't, really. I never learned how. I mean, I can read sheet music and sing it, but trying to play it on the piano is something entirely different. Sometimes when I really like a song I'll trial-and-error it until I learn it, but mostly I just make up my own songs―find what sounds good and just memorize the pattern of keys."

Santana can't tell whether it's because she hasn't really talked to anyone for 2 days, or because Rachel's droning on kills any other thoughts in her head, or because Rachel is the person _least_ likely to mention anything about Brittany, but she actually finds herself enjoying the current conversation, much to her own dismay.

"So that stuff you were just playing, you made that up?" Santana inquires, frowning as she realizes that she genuinely _is_ interested.

"Not right now on the spot, but yeah. It's something I came up with once whilst just messing around." Rachel shifts nervously, her hands smoothing over her skirt.

"Huh," Santana voices, legitimately impressed. "Do you write lyrics, too?" she asks as she relaxes and her eyes drift closed once again.

Now Rachel is sure this is some kind of trap. Santana's just here to sweet-talk Rachel into baring her soul, musically, and then she'll tape it or find some other way to use it against her. No way. Though Rachel has sung many songs for many people, she's never performed one of her personal pieces; they're just too revealing. So she steels herself and mentally decides not to give in.

"Sometimes," she replies, her tone coming across a little more annoyed than she had anticipated. It doesn't seem to bother Santana, though.

"Would you sing me something?" Santana requests in almost a whisper, clearly nearing sleep.

Rachel hesitates and starts to second guess her primary assessment of Santana's motives. Between witnessing the class bully who throws slushies and punches, the obviously broken girl who sulked through victory at Sectionals, the hateful girl who physically attacked her that same night, and this seemingly vulnerable girl lying off to her side, she just can't figure out which one is the real Santana Lopez.

"No. Not one of mine." She states firmly. "But I'll play something else..?" Rachel offers in a much lighter voice, hoping to appease the uncharacteristically soft-spoken girl.

Santana mumbles a response that comes out sounding like some sort of affirmation or acceptance of Rachel's proposal.

Rachel sighs, flipping through her mental rolodex of songs. She takes a deep breath and launches into a softer song, one that she hopes will help the Latina fall asleep―despite the fact she doesn't appear to require any assistance.

"It's not, what you thought  
When you first began it,  
You got, what you want  
Now you can hardly stand it, though  
By now you know,  
It's not going to stop  
It's not going to stop  
It's not going to stop, 'til you wise up."

Santana's eyes are wide open now, her mind absorbing every word being sung. This was turning out to be a far less relaxing experience than she had anticipated. _Does she know what's going on? She can't. This is just a sick fucking joke that the universe is playing on me._

"You're sure, there's a cure  
And you have finally found it,  
You think, one drink  
Will shrink you 'til you're underground  
And living down,  
But it's not going to stop  
It's not going to stop  
It's not going to stop, 'til you wise up."

_Fuck this. _With a frustrated sigh, Santana stands up from the bleachers, throws her bag over her shoulder, and storms out of the room, leaving Rachel in her wake in complete and utter confusion. The diva shrugs and finishes the last verse of the song, punctuating the last line:

"No it's not going to stop, so just, give up."

* * *

Santana walks into her second period class―English. This has already been the longest day of her life. The bright side of skipping Spanish is that she doesn't have any other classes with Brit, and it's an off-week for glee club after Friday's competition. With any luck she figures she'll be able to avoid her the entire day. The bad side of showing up for English is, given her and Quinn's newfound friendship, they were seat partners. Santana drops her bag and slides into her desk, palms resting on the desktop and her head following shortly thereafter to rest on the backs of her hands. She closes her eyes and just hopes that, for whatever reason, Quinn won't show up.

Shortly after the bell, she hears the desk next to her squeak and knows that she's S.O.L. Quinn leans over and nudges her shoulder playfully, causing her to look up at the blonde. 'Hey' the blonde mouths with a smile, as the teacher starts talking. Santana simply nods at the girl in acknowledgement and sits up straight.

As Quinn starts retrieving her books from her bag, Santana stares down at her own bag and realizes that she didn't go to her locker between classes. She raises her head and smiles sheepishly at Quinn, who seems to get the hint. The blonde slides her textbook to the slight gap between the two desks so that they can share.

Santana pulls her pencil from her ponytail and reaches over to write on Quinn's notes. 'Thanks :)'.

Quinn puts on a small, unimpressed grin and, with a raised eyebrow, writes a response just below, 'No problem, doesn't mean you're off the hook about B though :P'

Santana doesn't see the writing until she notices Quinn annoyingly tapping her notes with the back of her pen. As she reads it she groans aloud, drawing the attention of some other students around her. She scowls at the people staring at her, issuing nonverbal threats with her eyes. Once she's satisfied that her future victims are sufficiently terrified, she simply turns back towards the front of the class and, as she does every day, zones out.

* * *

As lunch approaches, Santana finds herself growing more and more nervous. Despite the effectiveness of her Brittany-avoidance tactics thus far, she had failed to consider the fact that she would undoubtedly be seeing the blonde in the lunchroom. There was no way she could sit at another table. _Maybe I could just skip the lunchroom altogether? _She thinks to herself, quickly deciding that it's probably her best option.

When the lunch bell rings, Santana stays in her seat. She figured out that if she waits a few extra minutes in class she can probably avoid the rush of the lunch crowd in the halls, thus making her exit and subsequent disappearance more stealth. She's decided that heading towards the choir room is probably the best idea―it's somewhere that Brit would likely never look for her given that it's common knowledge that Rachel spends every lunch hour in there.

Her teacher gives her an incredulous look as he heads towards the door himself about 5 minutes after the bell, but leaves nonetheless. Santana looks up at the clock and figures that patience is probably a good idea. The later she leaves, the better off she'll be.

Suddenly a figure enters the room, "Hey, I was waiting outside for you. I haven't seen you all day."

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit. _Santana looks up and meets Brittany's eyes briefly, immediately diverting her stare to anything other than those baby blues. She stays silent for a minute, thinking over her words.

"I, uh, yeah, I slept in this morning. And, uh, I was just finishing up some work right now," she states awkwardly as she packs up her things and slowly starts towards where Brittany is standing in the doorway. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she adds nonchalantly. She stops a few feet in front of the blonde, unsure of how to proceed. Santana had definitely not accounted for this possibility.

"I'm not stupid." Brittany states flatly.

Santana furrows her brow as her anger, as well as her voice, instinctively rises, "Who said you were stupid? I'll kick their fucking ass!"

Brittany takes a step forward and links her pinkie with Santana's, lifting their hands up and placing a soft kiss on the back of the Latina's. She lowers their hands slightly, but keeps her eyes on them. Santana's eyes are also fixed on their conjoined fingers.

"No one did." The blonde starts. "Or, well, I think that one of Becca's friends did once, but he was like 7 and he didn't even know that the capital of Belgium is a vegetable."

Santana's forehead furrows further, this time with an eyebrow raised in utter confusion.

"But that's not the point," Brittany continues, surprisingly astute in her speech. "I know you've been avoiding me," she states, her voice dropping in pitch and volume in tandem with her dropping their hands.

Santana frowns and looks down, wanting to avoid looking at Brittany at all costs. She doesn't know how to respond. Her eyes dart back and forth between their linked pinkies and her shoes. _I need new shoes._ She's not sure how much time passes before Brittany decides to speak.

"Hey," she coos softly, placing her free hand on the side of Santana's face, gently coaxing the Latina to look at her.

Santana gives in and looks up at the blonde, trying to memorize her facial features rather than making contact with her eyes. But, as she feels Brittany's thumb caress her cheek, she unintentionally leans into her touch and finally meets her eyes.

It's exactly what Santana was afraid of. She can see the mixture of hesitance and hurt permeating a sea of baby blue. Her heart drops as she realizes she's causing that pain. Every minute she keeps Brittany waiting in silence, every time she lets her cling to hope that they could ever amount to anything, she's slowly killing the spark that usually resides in those eyes. She starts to think that Quinn was right. She can't do this to Brittany; the poor girl doesn't deserve it. She has to cut the blonde loose. But, as she continues to stare into endless blue, she can't even fathom saying those words that she knows will cut the blonde even deeper.

Santana averts her eyes once more and Brittany sighs heavily, feeling defeated.

"It's okay..." the blonde starts softly. "You don't have to say anything." She lifts their hands to her lips once more and then relinquishes her hold on Santana's finger and her face. "I'm gonna go get lunch. I'll see you later."

With that she turns and leaves the room as if none of it ever happened. Santana stands still, completely dumbstruck. _Was that goodbye?_ is all she can wonder.

* * *

At a loss for what to do, Santana decides it would be easiest to stick to her original plan and she starts towards the music room. She checks her watch and realizes she only has about 30 minutes left to kill before afternoon classes. She had, apparently, spent quite a while in the empty classroom after Brittany had vacated. She had collected her thoughts until they started to overwhelm her and she had to get out.

Santana walks through the halls more like she's on mission than going for a leisurely stroll. It's not entirely out of character, but usually she throws a little swagger in her step and makes eye contact with those milling around in the halls. Not today. Her eyes stay straight forward as she makes her way downstairs and to the back hallway where Rachel hides every lunch period.

She loudly clambers into the room, causing a completely shocked Rachel to gasp aloud and spin on the piano bench, hand grasping at her sweater in the general vicinity of her heart. "Jeez, Santana," she breathes out as her heart rate slowly works its way back to normal.

Santana smirks and lets out a small chuckle, "Sorry, I didn't actually mean to give you a heart attack or anything." She makes her way to her seat and pulls her lunch out of her bag as Rachel rotates on the bench to follow her movements.

After a couple bites of her sandwich, Santana realizes that the other brunette is staring at her. "What is it, Man-Hands?" she asks without looking up.

"Um..." Rachel starts, confused to be at somewhat of a loss for words. She collects her thoughts and continues. "Well, to be honest I'm just used to being in here by myself, and while the presence of another person isn't entirely unwelcome," she pauses once more, unsure of how her words will be perceived. She sighs, "You are, quite frankly, the last person I would expect to start spending their free time in here."

Santana looks up at Rachel, noting how the brunette immediately averts her eyes back to the sheet music in her lap. She doesn't really have a response.

"Not to mention," Rachel pauses, eyes still down, wondering if she's pushing her luck. "Your previous statement notwithstanding, you've actually been pretty nice to me today."

Santana takes another bite of her sandwich, trying to decide how to navigate this conversation. She looks over at the small brunette and shrugs her shoulders, "Whatever. I just... I feel like disappearing today." She looks back down at her sandwich, finding it way less distracting than Rachel's facial expressions.

Rachel shuffles the sheet music into a neat pile, moving it off of her lap and to the top of the piano. She leans her elbow onto the large instrument, her head resting on her hand. "Why here?" she asks softly.

"Whatever, Treasure Trail, it's not like this room is _yours_ and I'm somehow invading your personal space. If you've got a problem with me being here, tough shit; find somewhere else to loser-out." Santana replies defensively, a sharp edge in her voice.

Rachel lifts her head abruptly, "No, no, that's not what I meant." She pauses once more. "As I said previously, your presence here isn't unwelcomed, just unexpected. And I'm just curious why, of all places, you choose to 'disappear' here..."

Santana takes a deep breath. Her sandwich now gone, her idle hands are left with nothing to play with. She grabs her water bottle, fiddling with the cap as she looks up at the brunette. She can't decide how honest to be. Rachel's big brown doe eyes scream trustworthiness and sincerity, but Santana's been guarded her entire life. _To have Santana Lopez's trust is to have earned it,_ she thinks to herself. But as she does, she realizes that she doesn't really trust anyone.

It occurs to her that she's probably been staring at those Bambi eyes for a while when they start to dart around the room and the body attached to them begins to straighten its clothes out unnecessarily. She sighs. _Well, might as well. Who the fuck's she gonna tell anyway._

She takes a deep breath and, for the first time, probably ever, opens up. "Here..." she clears her throat. "Well, here I can disappear but not be alone. Those are two entirely different things. When I'm alone all I can do is think, mostly about things I don't want to think about..." she shakes her head for emphasis. "Here, I can be away from... well, people... but I'm not alone. I don't have to think. There's music, there's distraction," She hesitates and stares down at her bottle before adding the final part of her thought. "There's you. You're here, and I'm not alone."

Rachel sits still, eyebrows up and slack-jawed, staring at the Latina in shock. Half of her is amazed at how seemingly deep Santana is despite her tough exterior; the other half of her is feeling completely elated at the Latina's admission that Rachel is an integral part of why she's there. She can feel a goofy grin spread across her face and a slight blush creep up her neck. She looks down quickly, hoping the girl across the room can't see it.

Santana does see it and scoffs loudly, exaggeratedly rolling her eyes, "Whatever Berry, it's not like I'm giving you a fucking friendship bracelet or some shit."

* * *

**The song Rachel sings is 'Wise Up' by Aimee Mann.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So I think my regular publishing schedule is going to be either Sunday or Monday, fully depending on how hungover I am from Saturday ;) And, should I happen to get an extra chapter done any particular week, it'll probably make its appearance on Thursday.**

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* * *

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It's Friday.

So far the rest of the week has continued much the same way as Monday. Two of the four days, Santana decided to skip Spanish and hang out with Rachel in the music room (she would have but couldn't today―she had a quiz that, naturally, she aced). In addition, Santana had spent every lunch hour in the music room: Tuesday Rachel played the piano while Santana napped; Wednesday Rachel worked on her vocal training while Santana did some last-minute reading for a pop quiz she had been tipped off about; yesterday Rachel did homework while Santana simply ate and bided her time. It was a pleasant arrangement that seemed to work for them both.

Things with Brittany hadn't changed much. There hadn't been any exchanges in reference to their maybe-on-maybe-off (Santana still isn't quite sure) relationship. There had been very little verbal contact and even less physical. Santana will concede that it's a beyond-awkward situation, but she has no idea how to fix it. The two cheerios practices they'd endured this week weren't nearly as much fun for either one of them. It was strange, but practice was definitely not the same without a partner in crime. Santana had decided right there and then that her first mission next week was going to be to reclaim Brit as a friend―as her best friend.

Quinn was staying true to her nosy self. She repeatedly grilled Santana to find out where she was spending her lunch hours, and yesterday, upon discovering the Latina's newfound proclivity for skipping out on Spanish, decided she would investigate that, too. So far she hadn't figured anything out. Santana wasn't specifically trying to keep anything a secret, she just hadn't chosen to share the identity of her new favourite locale.

The lunch bell rings. Santana hops up from her chair and makes her way to her locker to grab her lunch. She closes the door only to find Quinn situated behind it. She flinches slightly, and the shock must show in her face because it causes the blonde to chuckle slightly.

"So I've decided," Quinn starts, but abruptly stops.

Santana makes a circular gesture with her hand, indicating that the blonde should get on with it.

"Since you won't tell me where you're going, and since you seem to think I'm stalking you anyway... I'm going to physically follow you to find out where you're going." The blonde's mouth spreads into a magazine-worthy smile as she rocks up on the balls of her feet, hands clasped innocently behind her back.

Santana rolls her eyes and leans an arm against her locker, "Q, you've got to be fucking kidding me. What are you, twelve?" she asks exasperatedly.

"I wouldn't be throwing stones about age considering you're the one who's playing hide-n-seek," Quinn counters playfully with her trademark raised eyebrow.

Santana crosses her arms defiantly, "Ever think that maybe the reason I'm hiding is _because_ you're creeping my life?"

Quinn pastes a sarcastic pensive expression on her face. "Hmm... interesting theory," she says, stroking an imaginary beard with her thumb and forefinger. "Either way, I guess you're just stuck with me," she shrugs, a smile crossing her features again.

"Ugh," Santana grinds out. "Tubbers, I am so fucking over you." She fastens her lock and turns to walk away. She can feel the blonde following her. She decides to alter her route and heads to the cafeteria. Santana is surprised to see Brittany sitting at the other end of the cafeteria with the glee kids rather than in her normal seat. Santana finds it odd, but shrugs off the thought. She takes her usual seat at the cheerios' table only to be greeted by disparaging looks. She casts a stern look around the table, daring anyone to challenge her, only to be met by ducked eyes. _That's what I fucking thought_, she muses as she starts to work on her lunch.

* * *

Sitting in her first afternoon class, Santana thinks about her lunch hour and realizes how intellectually boring sitting with the cheerios is. For all their talk, there was nothing of substance said. It was all the same old things. Within just a few days she had completely forgotten that the most stimulating topic of conversation there could ever be for the girls in red is boys―and always the same ones. It was at lunch today that she decided just how over it she is.

The bell rings, marking the end of class. Santana throws her books in her bag and shleps the cumbersome thing over her shoulder. She starts down the stairs but pauses on the landing, noticing Rachel coming up towards her. The brunette turns her head up and notices Santana there. Santana offers an apologetic smile for skipping out on lunch, but can see the hurt in Rachel's eyes behind the kind smile she offers in return. Santana just sighs as she continues down the stairs and off to last period.

* * *

When the bell rings a final time, signalling the end of the day, Santana just pushes back in her chair to stretch her back and stares at the ceiling―thankful that the week is finally over. Once everyone else has vacated the room, she sits up, packs her things, and exits herself. She stops at her locker, spending an inordinate amount of time there just staring at its contents. She can feel something odd in the pit of her stomach that has been nagging her since the beginning of her last class. _I'm not hungry..._ she thinks. She shifts her stare to the inside of her locker door: a picture of the cheerios after winning Nationals last year; a picture of herself, Quinn and Brit at cheer camp a few summers prior; a picture of her and Brit at this past summer's Lima Fair; and a picture of her, Puck, and Brit as children. She sighs.

After a minute of contemplation she shifts her letterman's jacket and stares at the picture at the back of her locker―the one no one else knows about. It's a picture of the glee club, taken shortly after last year's victory at Sectionals. She runs her hand over the picture, remembering that exact moment, one where she actually felt alive. As she scans over the faces of the people she's come to at least mildly tolerate, her eyes halt on Rachel. _Guilt? Is that what I'm feeling?_ she wonders. She closes her locker, making it her mission to find Rachel Berry rather than leave herself wondering the entire weekend.

Santana figures the best place to start her search is the parking lot―if Rachel's car were still there, at least she'd know the brunette was still in the school. She heads outside, shivering at the cool blast of autumn air that hits her when she opens the door. The day she had taken her prolonged run really did turn out to be the last nice day of the fall. She starts a light jog out to where she can catch sight of Rachel's normal spot, noting that the black sedan is, indeed, still sitting there. Santana stares at the vehicle for a minute and considers waiting outside. Ultimately she decides that getting herself sick would help no one, and she jogs back into the building.

Given that Rachel's still on the premises, Santana can think of only one place the brunette would be. She makes her way through the core of the school and to the familiar back hallway.

As she reaches the door, she can hear the piano and smiles at her own pseudo-detective work. She turns the knob and pulls the door open slightly, taking a peek inside. She smiles once more upon seeing the slight brunette seated on the bench, as expected. Not wanting to subject the brunette to another heart attack, she decides to knock on the inside of the door.

Rachel spins on the bench and gives a look that Santana can't decipher. If she had to guess she would say it's somewhere in the area of torn, but between what she has no idea.

"Hey," the diva greets softly, nervously staring down at her clasped hands. "It's Friday... and school is over... what are you doing here?" she asks, looking back up at the Latina warily.

Santana hadn't really thought about what she would say and only now realizes how lame an apology for missing lunch would sound, especially out of the blue. She continues leaning on the door, lost in thought, until it hits her.

"I wanna find a song to sing in glee on Monday," Santana says, realizing she can kill two birds with one stone―what better way to win a certain blonde back as a friend than through song? Santana smiles at her own genius and gives herself a mental pat on the back.

Rachel's eyes immediately light up along with her smile and Santana takes the diva's reaction as a cue to walk in. Rather than heading to her normal spot, however, she abandons her bag next to the piano and walks over to the instrument section to grab an acoustic guitar.

As she turns to head back towards Rachel, she notices the diva staring at her as if she had just birthed the baby Jesus. "What?" the Latina inquires, standing still, feeling slightly exposed under Rachel's questioning gaze.

"You play the guitar?" the diva asks in utter disbelief.

Santana scoffs, grinning and shaking her head slightly. "My given name is _Santana_. Think about that for a minute." She starts walking towards the piano, grabbing a chair along the way.

Realization washes over the diva, but does nothing to dispel her confusion. "Oh..." she starts, unsure where she's headed. "I guess I just never pictured you as this kind of musical genius."

Santana sets the chair down, leaning one knee on it, and rolls her eyes. "Just because I'm a cheerleader doesn't mean I can't have substance," she says dryly as she strums a chord.

"Oh, of course not," Rachel says teasingly in response, a smug look across her features.

Santana just smiles and steps towards the piano, nudging Rachel to move over on the bench so she can sit down too.

"Um... what―" Rachel starts, looking up at the Latina and feeling her heart rate quicken.

"Calm down, Man-Ha―" Santana winces, choosing not to finish the insult after seeing the shift in the diva's expression. "Sorry," she smiles apologetically. "But yes, I do need to tune this beast," she explains, shooting her eyes down to indicate she means the guitar.

"Oh! Of course! Sorry," Rachel says, wondering why she suddenly feels so flustered. She shifts to one side of the bench, allowing the Latina to slide in next to her, the neck of the guitar invading her personal space. The diva closes her eyes, trying to keep her breathing under control.

Just as Rachel's sure she's going to pass out, she feels the bench shift as Santana gets up, only now realizing she's had her eyes closed the entire time. She can feel a blush spread across her features, and is thankful that Santana seems to be lost in her own thoughts at the moment. The Latina sits down in the chair next to the piano and starts strumming some chords with her eyes closed as Rachel watches in awe. After a while, Rachel realizes she's been openly staring at the Latina and decides to find sudden interest in the piano keys in front of her.

Santana suddenly stops playing. "Sorry I wasn't here for lunch," she says softly, now looking up at the brunette over the guitar.

Rachel takes a deep breath. On the one hand she was definitely hurt by the no-show, but on the other hand she had kind of seen it coming. "It's ok. I assumed that once you were sick of hiding out here you would go back to your normal routine," she says with unmistakable sadness.

Santana smiles and shakes her head, causing Rachel to shrink further. "It's not even..." the Latina starts, trying to piece her words together. "It's just, Quinn was bothering me. She wants to know where I keep going at lunch―don't even ask me why it's her new personal mission to stalk me, but whatever... _anyway_, I didn't want her knowing where I was going, so I just sucked it up and ate in the caf." Santana says it with a shrug, as if her words are the most neutral ones ever spoken. Her expression twists into one of confusion as she sees a look of complete and utter hurt spread across the other brunette's face.

"So, you're ashamed... of hanging out with me." she says, obviously fighting back the beginnings of tears. "You don't want anyone to know, so you'd rather eat lunch with people you probably hate."

Santana laughs a little at how ludicrous Rachel's assumption is, but stops abruptly. "You know, it's funny. While a week ago I probably would've answered that with a 'yes', that's not even it anymore."

"Yeah, right," Rachel mumbles, still looking broken.

Santana places the guitar down at her side and clasps her hands in her lap. She stares at the brunette with a completely straight face, waiting for the small girl to look up at her. "Hey," she prods gently, earning the eye contact she was looking for. "I'm serious. The only reason I didn't want Quinn to know is because, you know, 'disappearing' kind of involves no one knowing where you are..." she reassures the diva with a genuine smile.

"I know where you are." Rachel replies softly, still holding Santana's eyes.

Santana rolls her eyes and scoffs lightly, leaning back in her chair, "Yeah, well that's because you're _special_."

Rachel's face immediately lights up.

"You know that wasn't a compliment, right?" Santana asks, shooting for biting but coming off good-natured. She leans down to grab the guitar and returns it to her lap.

Rachel just smiles. "So, do you have a particular song in mind?"

* * *

Santana doesn't get home until close to 7. She and Rachel had pounded out an entire arrangement for the song she had chosen. She had initially anticipated singing it with just Brad accompanying her on the piano. Instead, Rachel was going to play the piano part as she had memorized it during today's session while Santana played some guitar into it. They would get a small section of wind, brass, and percussion players from the WMHS band to come in with the assist―Rachel seemed to know all the band members by name and had them on speed dial. Santana laughs at the memory of Rachel telling her this as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She actually finds herself feeling really confident in her performance for Monday, and Rachel is a large part of it.

As Santana walks in, she locks the door behind her and hangs her keys on the hook mounted on the inside of the coat closet. She walks into the living area and tosses her letterman jacket onto the back of the couch before collapsing backwards onto it over the armrest, completely ignoring her growling stomach. She reaches up to grab a pillow from the end of the couch to put under her head, swinging her feet off the other edge. She stares at the ceiling, one hand hanging down to the floor and the other running absently over her midsection as she reflects on the past week. Things had definitely changed quite a bit.

It's hard to believe adults when they say that things change quickly. In high school, particularly, everything seems to move as slow as molasses. But Santana's starting to understand what they mean, or at least she thinks she is. Just a week ago tonight, her and Brittany were still S&B, inseparable and ready to take on the world. This past week Santana had felt like she was functioning as half of a person. Though she hates to admit reliance on anyone, she needs Brittany. She needs a partner in crime. She needs someone to talk to, someone to joke around with, someone who'll just put up with her shit.

_Rachel did that this week._

It hits Santana like a flash, and her face contorts involuntarily. She starts to think over her past week with Rachel. Though much of their time had been spent in amicable silence, they often found themselves in some pretty fun back-and-forth. They had also had a few conversations that bordered on quite deep. Santana concedes to herself that she's been opening up to Rachel far more than anyone else in her life, but can't decide whether it's a good thing or a bad thing. Those big doe eyes just make talking seem so easy, despite the fact it hasn't ever been so before.

Santana decides to shift. She lifts her legs up, bracing her feet against the armrest, and pushes herself back to spread out across the entire length of the couch. She reaches her arms back in a stretch, but as she does she manages to knock something off of the side table. She turns onto her side and cranes her neck around the armrest to see what she's dropped. She can't see anything, so she contorts further, stretching an arm out and blindly reaching around until she manages to grab hold of the offending item. She returns to her original position on her back and looks at her new find―her cell phone. She sighs.

She had been conveniently 'forgetting' her phone every day for a week now―meaning that she had kept it off for the last week. She sets it down on her stomach and debates whether she should turn it on or not. She thinks about what she would be greeted with: probably a couple messages from Brittany, who undoubtedly would've called her phone before calling the house; definitely a few from her blonde-haired stalker; likely a few sexts from Puck―after all, it had been almost two weeks since their last hook up; and possibly some other random texts, likely nothing of consequence. She decides to leave it alone for now, but takes the phone with her as she heads into the kitchen to make dinner.

* * *

Santana sits and picks at the rest of her meal, mostly just pushing it around the plate with her fork. _Cooking for one is way overrated_. She puts her fork down, now sitting at the countertop with nothing to do. She glances at her phone and decides to just turn it on and at least see what she's facing.

She lets the phone fire up while she rinses off her dishes and loads them into the dishwasher. When she hops back onto her stool she's greeted by notifications for six voicemails and thirty-two text messages. She clicks the screen to see who left voicemails: two from Brittany, three from that other blonde, and one from Puck. _He must really be getting desperate._

She doesn't listen to any of them at the moment but instead clicks over to the texts. She clicks further to Quinn's message thread and scrolls to see 19 new texts from the blonde stalker alone. Luckily, she notes, the majority are from last weekend―before she and Brit had at least pseudo-hashed things out. She clicks over to Brittany's thread to find only 5 texts, all from Monday morning, wondering where Santana was. The remaining 8 are from Puck and are all highly inappropriate, growing in both desperation and explicitness as the week progresses.

As she's staring at the phone it vibrates in her hands and plays the new text notification. She clicks and notices she has a new thread with a number she doesn't recognize:

'Hey Santana, don't worry about anything, you'll kill it on Monday. Hope you have a great weekend :) xo, Rachel'

Santana smiles and suddenly realizes that she's been doing _that_ a lot lately―and, most disturbingly, she doesn't mind at all.

* * *

It's not until Saturday afternoon that Santana really finds herself swimming in boredom. For the most part, she was just happy that for the first time in a week she wasn't swimming in complete and utter confusion and unpleasant thoughts, but doing nothing was killing her. She lies on her bed, the tv in the background set to some movie she could care less about, and starts to scroll through the contacts on her phone. She passes Puck's name, stored as 'Loserface', not giving it a second thought until she reaches Quinn's. Suddenly she has a brainchild and, for the second time in as many days, wants to give herself a self-congratulatory pat on the back. She's about to scroll back up to dial Loserface when she notices Rachel's name right below Quinn's and smiles, only shaking her head when she realizes what she's doing.

She clicks Puck's number and holds the phone up to her ear.

"What." An unimpressed and extremely groggy voice answers on the other end.

"Hey loserface, wake your lazy ass up," Santana greets, just as crossly.

"What the fuck time is it even?"

"Puck, it's fucking 3:30 in the afternoon, get the fuck up." The Latina shakes her head as she speaks, as if the boy will sense her physical reprimand.

"Whatever." He groans. "What do you want anyway?"

"Well..." Santana starts. "I've been doing some thinking, and I think we have a common goal... at least indirectly."

"Ok, I have no idea what the fuck you're even talking about."

Santana groans into the handset, "Just get your ass over here when you're alive."

"What's in it for me?" Puck asks, suddenly much more awake. Santana can feel his cocked eyebrow and smug look even over the phone.

Santana rolls her eyes, realizing that Puck probably knows she's doing that, too. "If I told you now it'd ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?" she teases, adding a bit of sensuality into her voice, knowing it's the best way to get the boy's compliance.

"I really hope this surprise is clothing optional," he drawls out.

Santana cringes slightly and shifts into a more serious tone. "Puck, you can come naked if you want―I really don't give a fuck―just come over later, ok?" She sighs, feeling mildly frustrated with the conversation.

"I'm _so_ getting it in," the mohawked boy replies with a chuckle before hanging up.

Santana scoffs as she takes the phone back between her hands and scrolls back through her contacts, just staring at Rachel's name for a few seconds. She smiles again. _What the fuck am I even doing?_ She mentally reprimands herself as she sits up and places her phone on the nightstand. She runs her hands over her face, trying to determine when she started associating Rachel-fucking-Berry with happy thoughts. _Ugh,_ she shakes her head.

She can't figure out what else to do so she gets up and heads to the shower, hoping that the cool water will clear her mind.

* * *

Puck finally pulls into the driveway shortly after 6pm.

Santana meets him at the front door, grabbing his arm and practically throwing him into the house.

"San, what the fuck? What's so damn important?" Puck asks in disbelief, now situated in the living area.

"Sit." The Latina commands firmly, causing Puck to take a seat on the couch as instructed. "Good boy," she chuckles as Puck rolls his eyes.

"So?" the boy presses on, clearly impatient.

"Ok, so just know in advance that I am a complete and utter _genius_ and that you're going to thank me for this forever," Santana smiles, practically skipping across the room to take the seat opposite Puck.

Puck rolls his eyes and sighs, but waits for the Latina to continue.

"You still want a shot at Baby Mama, right?"

The boy's face screws as he shakes his head slightly, "What? Quinn doesn't want a thing to do with―"

"Just shut up for a minute, will you?" Santana cuts in, her annoyance evident in her tone. She takes a breath to calm herself and continues, "Let's try this again. Assuming Quinn's feelings are not a factor, you still wanna get with that, right?"

Puck looks down at his hands thoughtfully. "I mean, yeah, I guess so..."

_I knew it. _Santana smiles, accurately reading the expression on his face as flustered. "You're so fucking whipped," she laughs, earning a death glare from the boy across from her.

"Get the fuck on with whatever it is you've got to say," he warns with a serious tone.

Santana clears her throat, "Ok, well, as you may or may not know, I'm having a slight problem with Tubbers myself. She's kind of stalking my existence." Puck laughs, prompting Santana to hold up a finger, willing him to wait for the crux. "Seriously, though," she deadpans before deciding to continue on to her point. "So... after a bit of thinking, I realized that―and this is where you come in―" she punctuates by pointing at the boy. "The best way for me to get Quinn off of _my_ back is to help you get her back on _hers_."

Puck scoffs, "Right. And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

"All in good time, Puck, all in good time." Santana teases. She gets up from the couch and beckons for Puck to follow her.

"Nookie for Puck?" the boy says hopefully, clapping his hands together in mock-excitement as he follows closely behind the Latina.

"Well I suppose so... eventually... as long as you don't screw it up with Tubs." Santana replies, laughing at the end.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yay! Another week with 2 updates!**

**I wanted to take a moment to just thank you all for reading, especially those who have been commenting :) I always thought it was just grubbing for comments when authors said that but, being on the other side this time, I now know that hearing feedback truly helps the writing process. Yay positive reinforcement!**

* * *

It's Monday morning and, as Santana walks into WMHS, the nerves that she's managed to fend off all weekend start to creep up on her. Today's the day. In just 5 minutes she'll be performing. It'll probably her best chance at winning her lifelong best friend back. _No pressure there..._ she thinks to herself. She's suddenly very thankful that today's practice is a morning one so that she doesn't have to fret over her performance all day. To Santana, just walking in through the front doors has made the situation so much more real. Thankfully the halls are nearly empty as she starts a slow stroll to the music room.

She stops a few feet from the door to collect herself. With her eyes closed and head back, she takes deep breaths while clenching and releasing her fists a few times, trying to ease her tension. She takes a final deep breath, drops her head and opens her eyes with renewed focus. _Let's fucking do this._ She steps forward, grabs the door and walks in.

The first thing she notices walking into the room is that her usual seat next to Brittany is currently occupied by Quinn. Half of her wants to slap the girl across the face for stepping on her territory; the other half of her wants to kiss the girl in thanks―sitting next to Brittany right before performing would be _way_ too hard. Instead, Santana takes the empty seat next to Rachel, who shoots her a shy but reassuring smile just as Mr. Schue clears his throat to begin their session.

"Ok guys, welcome back! I hope everyone had a nice week off after the competition. First thing I want to say to you guys is congratulations again, I couldn't be more proud." The older man echoes his sentiment with a large smile, causing everyone in the club to light up slightly, even Santana. "Now, I have an assignment this week that should be pretty fun for you guys, but first!" he emphasizes with a raised finger. "We have a performance by Santana this morning," he gestures towards the Latina.

Shocked expressions and muffled gasps spread throughout the room as Santana gets up and confidently strides over to grab the guitar she had used on Friday. Rachel follows shortly, heading to her spot on the piano bench. Santana nods with a smile at the ensemble of flutists, sax and trumpet players, a bassist, and a drummer as she passes. She grabs a stool and places it down in front of the piano, perching herself comfortably with the guitar in her lap. Before starting the opening riffs, she turns back towards Rachel and shoots her a genuine smile in silent thanks. She then turns forward and starts the first guitar riffs, with the ensemble soon following.

"Whenever I'm down, I call on you my friend  
A helping hand you lend, in my time of need, so I  
I'm calling you now, just to make it through  
What else can I do, don't you hear my pleas

"Friends may come and friends may go  
But you should know that  
I've got your back, it's automatic, so  
Never hesitate to call  
'Cause I'm your sister, and always for ya"

Santana stands during the last line and carefully leans the guitar back on the stool before turning back around, now staring at and slowly advancing towards Brittany. "And I,

"Don't know what I'd ever do without you  
From the beginning to the end  
You've always been here right beside me  
So I'll call you my best friend  
Through the good times and the bad ones  
Whether I lose or If I win  
I know one thing that never changes and  
That's you as my best friend."

She's almost standing flush against Kurt, singing right at Brittany in the back row.

Brittany's face is unreadable, but Santana takes a chance and reaches out to see whether the blonde will take her hand. Luckily she does. She comes down to the floor with Santana, who holds the blonde's entire hand, not just her pinkie, as she sings right to her.

"Whenever I'm down  
With all that's going on, It's really going on  
Just one of those days, when ya  
Ya say the right thing, to keep me moving  
To keep me going strong, what else can I say

"Friends are there through thick and thin  
Well I've been told that  
And I believe that, it's automatic  
Call me when you need a friend  
'Cause I'm your sister, and always for ya, and I don't know..."

This time Santana can hear Mercedes, Kurt and Quinn join herself and Rachel on the chorus. She dances with Brittany, spinning her and letting her know that the words she's singing are just for her. Once it comes time for the bridge, Santana keeps hold of Brittany's hand and gets down on one knee, making intentionally over-dramatic gestures with her free arm as she sings,

"I'll be there for you, when you're going through  
times that you may think that you need a friend  
You can count on me, call me when you need  
Won't you call me up, 'cause I"

As they launch into the final chorus―this time everyone's singing along―Santana jumps up and starts spinning Brittany around again. The blonde is all smiles and Santana's all smiles in return.

As Santana sings the last notes and sends the blonde on her last twirl, she catches Rachel's eyes and her smile―impossibly―widens even further. The moment is abruptly cut short when a cheerios uniform and some blonde hair leap onto the Latina, catching her completely off-guard, and crush her lips in a kiss. As she stumbles backwards slightly, her eyes automatically close and she puts her arms around Brittany's waist, if only to keep herself from falling.

Once Santana actually computes what's going on, she cuts the embrace short, returning the blonde to a standing position and relinquishing her hold on her. The blonde, though, does not return the favour, keeping her hands clasped around Santana's neck. She faintly registers at least Puck whistling and hooting in the background and makes a mental note to physically castigate him later.

"I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me," Brittany all but whispers, looking into the Latina's eyes.

Santana doesn't want to but averts her eyes, still feeling uncomfortable under the blonde's direct gaze. She does whisper, "B, you should let go, there are other people here." She emphasizes her words by darting her eyes back and forth at their friends around them, waiting to congratulate her on her performance and getting a free show as a bonus.

The blonde blushes slightly and lets go, taking a step back but trailing one hand down Santana's arm to link their pinkies.

Santana takes a deep breath before proceeding, "You're good with just being friends again, right?" She's not sure she's ever felt as vulnerable as she does right now.

The blonde's eyes smile, soon followed by her mouth as she nods her head frantically. "_Best_ friends," she corrects, as she drops the Latina's pinkie, surrendering her to the crowd.

Santana smiles in return and starts to interact with her admirers; that is, up until she notices that a certain brunette is missing. Suddenly her face drops and she looks around frantically, realizing the diva's definitely not in the room anymore.

"Where the hell did Rachel go?" Santana asks no one in particular, still glancing around as if the brunette might suddenly pop out from under a chair―_She _is_ pretty short_.

It's Tina who responds, "Yeah... she did, like, a total Rachel Berry storm out when the song was done. It was weird." Various other glee members nod in agreement with Tina's assessment of the situation.

Santana screws her face, and Quinn notices.

The blonde leans toward the Latina with a raised eyebrow. "Why do you care where Trannie Hall went, anyway?" she inquires at a volume she's sure that only Santana can hear.

"Girl helped me get this all set up, I just want to thank her is all," Santana replies. It's mostly true, it's only a lie of omission―part of her is genuinely concerned.

Mr. Schue soon reins in the club again and everyone returns to their seats. Noting that the slight brunette has yet to return, Santana excuses herself to use the restroom.

When she gets out into the hallway, ready to scour the school for the brunette, she finds she doesn't have to look far: Rachel is sitting against a set of lockers only about 30 feet down the hall. She's leaning back with her knees pulled up against her chest.

Santana walks over and slides down the locker next to the diva so that the two are seated side by side. She crosses her extended legs and smoothes her hands over her cheerios skirt, picking at lint that may or may not actually exist.

It's Rachel who breaks the silence. "Sorry. That was exceptionally immature." She doesn't look up at Santana, rather keeping her eyes fixed on the row of lockers opposite them.

"Don't even sweat it. I've been known to do a 'Rachel Berry storm out' myself―in case you forgot last Monday's dramatic exodus." Santana says kindly, nudging Rachel's shoulder lightly with her own.

The diva cracks a smile, "Well, while that was _mildly_ impressive, you'll need _much_ more practice if you really want to reach my level." Now she has a smug grin on.

It makes Santana smile widely, glad that the girl is feeling better. She stands up and offers the smaller brunette her hand, helping her to her feet. She starts walking with Rachel following close behind, but turns around suddenly when she remembers something, "Oh―"

Rachel is staring somewhere lower than the back of Santana's head and doesn't have enough time to react to the Latina's abrupt stop. As her momentum continues forward, her forehead pretty much rams right into the cheerleader's chest. "Oof! Um, sorry, what?" Rachel has that flustered feeling again, and she's sure it's showing all over her face.

Santana shrugs off the impact. She looks down at the diva and can tell that she's slightly flush, though she assumes she probably would be too if she had just molested a girl's breasts with her face. Santana braces the tiny girl by putting her hands on either of Rachel's shoulders, pushing her back slightly and looking into her eyes. "Before we go back in there, I wanted to say thank you. That was just... an awesome performance, and I couldn't have done it without your help." She puts on a smile and squeezes the shoulders she has a hold of, the best way she knows how to show her affection. Rachel is positively beaming as they walk back into the room.

"I see you found Diva-Deluxe," Quinn mutters, leaning down to Santana's ear as she and Rachel take their seats once more.

Santana turns and shoots a glare at the blonde, earning a shrug and a 'What the fuck?' look in return. As Quinn leans back into her seat, she seriously starts to wonder what's going on between the two brunettes.

Mr. Schue clears his throat to get everyone's attention, "Ladies?" He sends in their general direction. They nod their heads in acquiescence. "Ok, now that everyone's here, I wanted to talk to you guys about this week's assignment."

Rachel's hand shoots up immediately, earning discerning looks from the rest of the club. "Mr. Schue," the brunette interjects. "I think that this week would be best spent―"

Santana shoves the girl lightly, who spins in her direction looking like she'd just been shot. 'Shut up,' the Latina mouths while shaking her head slightly, unable to fight a smile.

Schue stands still, alternating his stare between the two brunettes, slightly awed that someone was able to quiet the diva. He clears his throat again, this time just to collect his thoughts. "Ok, so, this week's assignment. First of all you'll be working in pairs." A mixture of cheers and groans permeate the room. "Secondly, and most importantly, song choice: I want you guys to choose _any_ Billboard Number 1 from within your own lifetime. So that should give you about sixteen years worth of material to work with." This time cheers fill the room.

Schue notices a hand up and calls on its owner, "Yes, Finn?"

"Uh, yeah, are we choosing our partners or..." the jock leaves hanging, eloquent as ever, a highly confused expression gracing his features.

"Ah yes, so I figured we'd mix it up this time―we'll throw names in a hat and whoever gets picked can choose their partner. That way it's half random and half schoolyard pick. Sound good?" Everyone nods at the older man.

The next five minutes are spent writing names down and deciding the first few pairs. Puck was drawn first and chose Finn as his partner, citing "Dude, we'll fucking rock this" as his logic. Mercedes was drawn next and chose Kurt. Matt was up next, choosing Mike as his partner. Then it was Artie's turn and he chose Tina.

Mr. Schue pulls out the next name, "Santana!"

Santana smiles and walks up to the front of the class, her smile dropping when she turns around and surveys her choices: Quinn, Rachel, and Brittany. _Shit,_ she thinks, realizing that this is going to be a loaded decision. She weighs her options. Quinn would probably be the safe choice, no one would be jealous of her and there wouldn't be any awkwardness―besides the fact that she'd be spending her time with her stalker... _Hmm, maybe not._ Rachel's a solid choice because she's a good singer, and after the time they spent on Brittany's song she knows that they work well together. She shifts her gaze, _But, Brit might be jealous if I don't pick her._ Brittany would be the obvious choice, but... Santana can't put her finger on it. Despite the fact she's reclaimed her best friend, she still feels like a lot of time in closed quarters might give the blonde the wrong idea―especially after her very 'friendly' reception to the Latina's song today. She finally looks up from her thoughts to see three equally confused faces staring at her.

She clears her throat, "Ok, so I'm gonna choose Rachel―" the brunette's face immediately lights up, while two sets of blonde eyebrows meet the ceiling. "―_purely_ so that we can make everyone else here look like suckers," she concludes, sending a glare out to the rest of the club, her finger following along in a sweeping motion across the bleachers.

Mr. Schue claps, "Ok! So that leaves Brittany and Quinn as our final pair! Perfect!" He glances up at the clock on the wall. "Ok guys, that's gonna be it for today, I'll see you all on Wednesday―I'm excited to see what you come up with!"

With that, everyone starts rustling to get their things together. Santana's just picking up her bag when she feels someone tap on her shoulder. Expecting to see Rachel when she turns around, she's disappointed to find a blonde sporting a disapproving glare standing in front of her. The rest of the room seems to have emptied out, even Schue having taken off.

"Man Hands? Really? You two like BFFs now?" Quinn snarks with a furrowed brow, arms crossed in front of her body.

Santana scoffs and rolls her eyes, tossing her bag over her shoulder. "Look Tubby, I like to win. Speaking in terms of skill, I'm more likely to win with her than with you or B. Simple as that."

Quinn raises an eyebrow, looking positively unimpressed with the Latina's response. "Right... it's not like you've been spending time with her planning this whole performance for B... and it's probably just coincidence that you can make her shut up with just a nudge when even an air horn couldn't drown her out... oh, and you certainly had nothing to do with her coming back from her freak out all smiles, right?"

Santana crosses her arms, mirroring Quinn's posture, but she can't think of anything to say, simply opening and closing her mouth a few times.

"Right," Quinn answers herself, shaking her head and turning to leave the room. She pauses in the doorway and turns her head halfway back, "You know it'd be kind of a dick move to cut B off and then start shacking up with someone else like a week later." She turns her head back forward and leaves.

Santana simply stands in awe for a few moments before sinking back into her chair, dropping her bag at her side. She stares straight ahead blankly, her mind running a mile a minute. _She's insane. That's not what's happening with Rachel. A) Ew. B) Ew. C) ...I need more reasons._ She shakes her head and looks up at the clock, noting she still has 15 minutes before class. She realizes it's decision time―class or no class? She figures she should probably go to class―they'd get their quizzes back and she could put in some face time with Brit since they were reconnecting. Also, she's about 99% sure that, even within just a week, Brit's grade has started a steady decline without her there to coach the blonde through the lessons. Going to class is the logically sound choice. The only problem is a bigger part of her wants to stay, to hang out with Rachel, to feel fully relaxed like she only does when she's with the brunette these days.

She bites back the urge to skip and decides to go to class―couldn't hurt to repair her attendance record a little anyway. She makes a hasty exit from the room so as not to have an awkward run-in with Rachel on her way out. She'd see her at lunch anyway.

* * *

The morning wasn't too eventful. As Santana had suspected, Brittany had totally flunked Friday's Spanish quiz. Santana made a mental note that if she were going to skip class she would still have to get together with the blonde and go over the work so that the girl could at least pass. At that moment Santana felt like a horrible friend, but she reminded herself that the freeze-out was a mutual choice and that they were both complicit.

Second period with Quinn was pretty awkward, but Santana ignored it as best she could by staying focused on the lesson―for once. To Santana's surprise, being engaged in the lesson rather than pretending to be actually made the time move faster. _Go figure_.

English class lets out early enough so that Santana is already at her locker as the bell rings and students start filing into the halls. Suddenly Santana feels a set of hands cover her eyes and a breathy "Guess who" brush past her ear, making her shiver involuntarily as she stifles a gasp with her hand.

"Um... Jewfro?" Santana guesses lamely, knowing exactly who it is behind her. Her assumption is only verified when she hears a light giggle from behind her head.

"Nope, guess again," the voice comes again, this time in the other ear. Santana starts to feel slightly flushed at the tone of voice, but mentally chides herself.

"Um... Brittany!" She exclaims, softly removing the hands from her face and spinning around to face the blonde.

Brittany's face lights up and she claps excitedly, "Yay! You win!" She leans in to kiss Santana on the cheek, but Santana instinctively backs away. Brittany takes a step back and the expression on her face reads like the Latina just kicked her puppy.

Santana grabs Brittany's hand full-on again, "We're in school, Brit. Also, we're just _friends_, right?" She looks at the blonde's face, willing her to return the stare.

Brittany does look up and meets Santana's eyes. "_Best_ friends," she corrects softly. "So... are you gonna come to the caf for lunch?" she asks with a slight pout.

Santana bites her lip as she wages an internal war with herself. She wants to make Brit happy, but she really doesn't want to see that hurt in Rachel's eyes again. She _could_ technically appease both of them by taking Brit with her to the choir room, but she decides against it. She doesn't know how the three of them would interact together. Though both the blonde and the diva are painfully kind, it just doesn't seem like they'd really mesh on a friendship level. _Not to mention, there's no telling what kind of bullshit Tubby's been feeding B about me and Rachel_. Ultimately she decides to forego the cafeteria and lunch with Brittany―they had practice after school so they would get to see each other then. Santana smiles, imagining how cheerios practice will be just like it was before the whole disaster: S&B back in action and back on top.

She turns her attention back to the blonde in front of her, who's still looking at her with pleading eyes. "Not today B, I've got some stuff I need to do. I'll see you at practice, though," she adds with a smile and a reassuring squeeze to the blonde's hand.

Brittany smiles and nods before spinning on her heel and pretty much skipping down the hall. Santana can't help but smile as she watches the blonde bounce away for a few moments before turning to make her way to her own destination.

* * *

Santana announces her arrival in the music room with a light knock, only to be greeted by Rachel's beaming smile. Santana's surprised to find the diva in a chair rather than at the piano bench―where she always sits, even while doing homework. Santana walks in and takes the seat next to the brunette, who's flipping through songs on her iPod.

Halfway through her sandwich, Santana can't fight the urge to ask anymore. "What are you even doing? You don't even have headphones on," she shakes her head.

Rachel smiles as she turns her head toward the Latina, "Oh I'm not doing anything, just finding our_ song_!" Her eyes are hopeful as she holds up the small screen for Santana to see.

"Country?" she cringes, the word obviously leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

"It's Faith Hill!" Rachel pleads, with her eyes as much as her voice.

"Do I _look_ white and blonde to you?" Santana asks, gesturing down her body with her hands.

Rachel pauses a bit longer than she had anticipated, her eyes following Santana's hands their entire trip. She shakes her head, not willing to give in, "But it's a good song! And I think it would really work for us!"

"VETO. Next." Santana states, arms crossed, firm in her response.

* * *

After an unusually long cheerios practice, even by Sue Sylvester standards, Santana finally pulls into her driveway just before 7pm. As much as she loved having her practice buddy back, you can't really buddy up while doing wind-sprints for over an hour.

Otherwise the rest of the day had been reasonably uneventful. After spending the rest of the lunch hour going through Rachel's iPod, Santana exercising her veto power on a number of Broadway hits, the pair had decided they would get together later in the evening since they had failed to reach a decision.

Santana turns off the ignition and sighs a tired breath before undoing her seatbelt. She labouredly gets out of the car and hobbles to the back seat to grab her bags. She can't remember a recent time when she's been so sore. _Well maybe after that one night with B..._ she shrugs off the thought and focuses on trying to wrestle her bags out.

She's about to give up the fight when a horn honks from the street and two older men wave at her from inside a parked SUV. As Santana glances over she starts to wonder how long it takes for an amber alert to kick in.

As soon as the thought comes it's wiped out, though, as Rachel hops out of the back of the vehicle. "Bye, dad! Daddy! I'll call when we're done."

Santana smiles, despite her pain, as the brunette comes jogging over. She had completely forgotten that they were going to get together to work on the project.

Rachel reaches the side of the car, "Hey," she greets with a shy smile.

"Hey yourself," Santana responds, mustering all her strength to lift her cheerios bag from the backseat and toss it to Rachel. "Manual labour for you," she smiles.

Rachel's face contorts as if the Latina just threw a flaming bag of feces at her.

Santana manages to get her backpack over one shoulder with only a small wince of pain and takes a couple staggering steps towards the door before a hand on her shoulder stops her. She turns around to see Rachel standing with her hand out. "I'm sorry, you want spare change?" the Latina snarks.

Rachel rolls her eyes, "Santana, you're clearly in some sort of pain. I am perfectly physically capable of carrying that backpack while you are _clearly_ not, so hand it over." She emphasizes by jutting her hand out further.

Santana is not having it. "No fucking way Ru―" she winces again, and not from physical pain this time. "I can do it myself," she adds tiredly.

"If you must be so stubborn, then by all means, go ahead and break some bones," Rachel cedes, hands up in submission.

Santana smiles in victory, her smile only slightly faltering as she resumes her limp to the door. After fumbling slightly with her keys, she manages to get the notoriously sticky lock open on the first try. As soon as she steps in, holding the door to let Rachel pass, the diva smoothly removes the backpack from her shoulder as she slides past. The cheerleader can suddenly feel her right arm again.

"Where do you want the bags?" Rachel asks as Santana closes and locks the door, hanging up her keys.

"Anywhere in this hall is fine," she answers, loosely gesturing her hand in indication. She shrugs off her jacket and sets it down on the bench next to her, not sure she'd be able to support its weight all the way to a hanger. She kicks off her shoes and starts towards the kitchen, motioning for Rachel to follow.

Santana gestures towards the stools by the island and Rachel takes the hint, sliding to sit in one. Santana opens the fridge and peers in, "Shit,"

"What's wrong?" Rachel asks, the concern in her voice almost making Santana wince again.

"Um, nothing really, I'm just gonna have to order something for dinner. I forgot to go grocery shopping." Santana explains flippantly, closing the fridge door and grabbing a couple flyers from delivery places.

Rachel screws her face, "You do the grocery shopping?"

Santana's lost in a flyer, "What? Oh, yeah, I have to," she responds dismissively, hoping the diva will let it be.

Rachel wonders whether she should push. Having noted that Santana is generally receptive to her questions, she decides to take a chance. "Where are your parents?"

Santana closes the flyer in her hand, bringing both of them over to the island counter and setting them down. She leans back on the countertop opposite Rachel and takes a deep breath, "Well, my parents are divorced―my dad moved out when I was eleven. So, usually it's me and my mom living here, but she's on a business trip right now." She sighs and adds under her breath, "for six months."

Rachel's jaw drops, but she composes herself enough to confront the Latina, "I'll have you know that, being a gifted singer, my hearing is superb. Though you may have spoken in a lower register, I completely heard you." She slides off of her stool and starts a tentative path around the island. "Is your mom seriously leaving you alone here for six months?" Rachel asks, just a foot or two away from the cheerleader now, slightly reaching her hand out in a show of comfort.

"She already has," Santana nearly whispers, and as Rachel registers what she's hearing her heart breaks for the girl. Santana crosses her arms and sniffs back her emotions, refusing to cry on principle.

Rachel takes a risk and reaches out to touch Santana's forearm. When the Latina doesn't retract, the diva reaches out her other hand and takes hold of the arm, pulling it loose and taking Santana's hand between hers. She brings it up and places a chaste kiss on the Latina's knuckles.

Santana, so focused on controlling her emotions that she can barely register anything, feels a charge run through her body when Rachel's lips connect with her hand. She directs her attention back into the world, but decides to erect some walls around her exposed heart again.

She pulls her hand away from Rachel's grasp and picks the flyers up from the countertop, "Ok, food. Are you hungry at all?" She asks, semi-cheerfully, as she holds the two papers in the air―one for an Asian place and the other for a pizzeria.

"Well I'm a vegan, so pizza's a definite no," Rachel states, pointing at the sheet in Santana's right hand.

"Well, they _do_ have vegan pizzas and I want pizza, so you're shit outta luck. Pizza's happening here." Santana states firmly, punctuating her statement by pointing down. Rachel can't help but give in to the exhausted cheerleader―this once.

* * *

The pair feasts on pizzas and watches tv for a couple hours before ending up upstairs in Santana's room. Santana lies on her back on her bed while Rachel reclines in Santana's desk chair, her feet resting on the foot of the bed. They sit like this for about 20 minutes, in their own worlds―or possibly a food coma―, before Santana breaks the silence, albeit groggily.

"We need to think of some less offensive nicknames for you," she suggests thoughtfully, staring up at the ceiling with a hand resting on her too-full stomach.

Rachel looks down from the hole she'd bored in the ceiling and ponders the idea for a few minutes. "Well... you seem to like referring to your friends by their first initial, so why not just call me 'R'?" she suggests.

Santana scoffs and chuckles a bit, "Yeah, maybe if we were pirates..."

Rachel pouts but realizes that Santana can't see her, so she kicks out her leg instead knowing that, although she can't hit the cheerleader from where she is, the girl will definitely see it in her peripheral vision.

"Hey!" Santana scolds as she waves her hands defensively in front of her face, causing Rachel to laugh uncontrollably. "That's not even funny," the Latina protests, turning her head to face the brunette with a glare.

"How is it _not_ funny? My foot was a good three feet from your face and you were _paralyzed_ with fear. Fear of de-feet!" Rachel finishes excitedly, as if she had just experienced some great eureka moment.

Santana looks back up at the ceiling and covers her mouth as she genuinely laughs. "Oh my god, you actually just said that. That might be the lamest joke I have ever heard in my entire life!" she remarks incredulously, unable to stop laughing.

As much as Rachel wants to be offended, she really can't be while Santana is laughing. However she _is_ offended by the deficient amount of attention being paid her by the cheerleader. The lack of Santana looking at her is really ruining the diva's plan to compel sympathy through her pouting. At this realization, she decides to alter her plan.

She quietly gets up while the cheerleader is still occupied with laughing and jumps onto the bed, loosely straddling her. Santana's eyes shoot forward to reach Rachel's, and immediately her laughter stops. Santana lifts her arms to weakly wrestle the smaller brunette, but Rachel simply places the Latina's arms down at her sides. The diva starts to lean lower, her face getting uncomfortably close to Santana's.

"Rachel, what are you―" before Santana can finish her sentence, Rachel has achieved the goal of her updated plan. The Latina can't help but writhe underneath Rachel's touch, and though she's fully aware of the fact that she's releasing noises that she didn't even know she could produce, she really can't help herself. She certainly wasn't expecting _this_.

Rachel is thoroughly enjoying her dominance as she continues to assault the cheerleader with long and endless tickles. She finds herself laughing right along with―or, well, maybe _at―_the Latina as she struggles against her. Santana is, objectively, much stronger and _should_ be able to physically remove Rachel at any given moment, but a bout of the tickles seems to be her kryptonite. Rachel makes a mental note to remember this tidbit of information for a later date before finally relenting and stopping her assault on the victim beneath her.

As soon as she stops, Santana shows her strength and, despite her physical exhaustion, tosses Rachel right off of her body and onto the bed beside her. The Latina immediately rises and bolts out of the room, leaving a very confused and slightly dejected Rachel in her wake.

When Santana returns, she simply leans against the doorjamb, staring into the room.

Rachel sits up on the edge of the bed, "Hey, where'd you go?"

"Well," Santana starts casually. "Someone decided to tickle the shit out of me, causing me to have to pee like a bitch," she ends, walking back into the room with a smirk and pushing a giggling Rachel back on to the bed.

She takes a seat next to the now lying down diva, hazarding a glance at her clock and noticing that it's past 10pm already. She hates to do it, but, "You should probably call your dads. It's late." She screws her face, sudden realization making her confused, "Why did you get a ride? Why didn't you drive?"

Rachel turns her head to the side so that she can look up at the Latina, "Ok, I'm going to preface this by saying it has a high probability of sounding completely ridiculous, but... my fathers don't feel entirely comfortable with me driving after dark." Santana doesn't react, leading Rachel to poke her side and shoot her a questioning look.

"Well, you _are_ kind of a spaz..." Santana quips, earning a pouting Rachel on top of her, tickling again.

The two spend the next five minutes giggling and fighting for dominance―with Santana mostly losing―before Rachel's phone rings. It's some Broadway tune and Santana rolls her eyes, earning a light slap on the arm from Rachel, who is straddling her once again.

"Hi daddy!" she greets, cheerful as ever.

Santana decides to exact some revenge. She reaches forward and starts tickling at Rachel's sides, causing the brunette to start awkwardly laughing and struggling while trying to hold a conversation with her father.

As Rachel starts moving back to dismount the Latina and make a getaway on the floor, Santana lifts her feet up onto the bed, raising her knees and causing the brunette to slide right onto her abs. The impact causes the diva to moan unexpectedly, which causes Santana's mouth to suddenly run dry and her breathing to quicken. Her hands instinctively move to rest on Rachel's thighs, but she removes them almost as quickly, earning a confused look from the smaller brunette who is still on the phone.

"Ok daddy, yeah, I'll see you soon." She ends the call and returns the phone to her pocket. She looks down at Santana, who looks slightly awkward with her hands on either side of her head, palms up. Rachel cocks her head to the side, noting the Latina almost looks like she's offering the same gesture of submission that she usually earns from others.

They sit silently like this for a few minutes, seemingly just studying one another, exchanging shy smiles and quickly averting their eyes whenever they happen to accidentally meet.

Finally, the diva breaks the armistice by reaching down and twining her hands with the Latina's, bringing them up closer to her. "So, I guess we're not choosing our song tonight," she says, studying the mass of hands.

Santana is still trying to compose herself as she responds, "Uh, yeah." She mentally scolds herself for not having anything better to say, but finds herself completely at a loss―and without breath―with the diva and her full lips still straddling her.

Rachel is at a loss herself, staring down at the girl beneath her. She drops their twined sets of hands back down onto the bed on either side of Santana's head, using them to support her weight as she loosely hovers over the Latina. She can't read the expression on the face below hers, and it's making her inexplicably nervous. She bites her lip as she tries to compose herself.

Santana's mind runs blank as she watches the brunette bite her lip, her now sole thought centred on how she'd love to bite and lick and consume that lip. She involuntarily releases a low, albeit quiet, groan.

Rachel can't figure out if she heard what she thinks she just heard, but the idea of Santana groaning beneath her makes her feel wetness in an area that she knows she shouldn't. At this moment she knows she's blushing and turns her head slightly to the side.

Santana doesn't notice the blush, but does notice the smooth column of Rachel's throat as she turns to the side. All the Latina can think about is marking the soft skin as her own.

Rachel turns her head forward once more and hazards a glance down at Santana's eyes. All she can see is a darkness matching that of her own eyes. She steels herself and prepares to take the biggest risk she's probably ever taken.

She relinquishes her hold on one of Santana's hands, using her now free hand to brush a few stray hairs from the cheerleader's face. She hesitates slightly before starting to lean in―

A loud showtune breaks the moment and Rachel jumps up from the bed as if she's just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She retrieves her phone from her pocket and answers, sounding just as freaked out as she looks, "Hello?.! Oh, ok... Yeah I'll be downstairs in just a minute."

The diva blushes heavily and shoots a slightly apologetic look over to Santana as the Latina props herself up on her elbows and gives an awkward smile, trying to ignore the events of the past 5 minutes.

"So," Rachel starts. "My dads are here. I guess we'll have to pick our song tomorrow." She fiddles with her fingers, eyes darting around the room, clearly nervous with the situation. "Um, are you going to first period tomorrow?"

Santana lays back down in thought, "Yeah, I think so."

"Ok then we'll have to get together at lunch. We can meet in the computer lab and look up song choices...?" the diva questions with a raised eyebrow.

Santana continues to stare up at the ceiling, avoiding Rachel's eyes. "Yeah, that sounds fine," she replies absently.

"Ok... so... I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?" Rachel prods, trying to compel the Latina to look up at her. It doesn't work.

"Yeah, later Berry," she responds, seeming completely disinterested in any sort of proper parting.

"Ok, bye." Rachel says awkwardly, her heart slightly wrenching as she turns and makes her way out of the house.

Santana stays in the same position, staring at the ceiling, until she hears the front door click shut. She hops up and wanders over to the window, watching as the songstress makes her way to the dark SUV.

When Rachel gets to the door of the vehicle, she hazards a glance up at the lit window, catching the cheerleader watching her. She drops her head slightly, smiling, then waves a silent goodbye as she opens the car door.

Santana doesn't wave back.

* * *

**The song Santana sings is 'Best Friend' by Brandy [which, random overshare, was actually my fav song when I was a youngin :)]**


	5. Chapter 5

_What the fuck is even going on? _The Latina wonders as she lies in her bed, unable to sleep. The time is now going on 3am and the girl is starting to grow more than slightly frustrated. The fact of the matter is she just can't wrap her head around the way things seem to be progressing with Rachel. _It's all totally wrong._ Santana should hate Rachel; make her suffer so that she stays the same old loser while the Latina bolsters her reputation as Queen Bee of William McKinley. It's pretty simple logic. _So w__hy don't I _want_ to hate her?_

Santana groans, realizing that this is destined to remain a sleepless night. She rolls to the nightstand and grabs her phone, deciding to text the only person she knows will be awake.

'What are you doing' she types and clicks send. She rolls onto her back and sets the phone down on her stomach, impatiently waiting for a response. Finally about a minute later the phone lights up.

'Just leaving finn's sup'

She types in her response, 'I can't sleep come get me'

The phone almost immediately lights up, 'There in 10'

Santana slowly climbs out of bed and gets dressed in sweats and a hoodie. She checks herself quickly in the mirror, to make sure she at least partly resembles the living, and makes her way downstairs, step by gruelling step. The day's killer practice combined with her inability to sleep was clearly not helping her aching muscles.

As she reaches the bottom floor, she can see a set of headlights in the driveway. She grabs her jacket and her keys, locking up on her way out.

She strains herself to climb into the passenger seat of the truck, a heavy wince drawing a concerned look from the driver.

"Hey Puck, thanks for coming," she smiles.

"No problem babe," he smiles genuinely, shifting in his seat to face the young girl. "Coach S really kicked your asses today, huh?"

Santana just nods.

"So... where we headed?"

Santana thinks for a minute. "You got beer?"

Puck scoffs. "Of course I've got beer, I've got a 2-4 in the back. You didn't answer my question, though."

"Wherever is fine." Santana responds absently and Puck takes the hint, turning back towards the front of the vehicle, shifting it into motion, and pulling out of the driveway.

The pair drives in silence for about 15 minutes before Santana can feel the truck jerk back into park. She chances a glance over at the mohawked boy, who keeps his eyes forward waiting for the Latina to make the first move. She has to admit that, despite his faults, Puck is a hell of a friend. He's the only person she knows who, even if he hadn't been free or if he'd been sleeping, still would've dropped whatever he was doing to come get her in the middle of the night. She smiles internally, then frowns again as she remembers why she's here at all.

She sighs, then suddenly grows curious, "Where are we?" Her eyes dart around their dark surroundings, noting that they're not in a parking lot but rather in the middle of a field.

"It's an old farmer's field. I don't think anyone owns it anymore, but anyway, no one's ever here. Sometimes I come out here when I can't sleep." He pauses for a couple minutes. "Don't fucking tell anyone I said this," he starts again, looking at her for the first time since they arrived. "But the stars out here? They're just fucking awesome."

Santana laughs slightly, but digests the words as spoken. "Who knew Pucky had a soft side," she voices comically, unable to resist the opportunity to tease the boy.

The car grows silent for a few moments before Puck speaks. "So, beer?" He smiles cheerfully as he jumps out of the vehicle, drawing a raised eyebrow from the Latina.

The girl starts to struggle out of her side of the car, but Puck rushes around in time to help her down. She glares, "I could've done it myself, you know."

Puck just rolls his eyes, motioning for the girl to follow him to the back of the truck. He pops down the door of the flatbed and unexpectedly grabs the Latina by the hips, lifting her up to take a seat with her feet dangling down towards the ground. He walks around to the side of the car, reaching into the back of the bed to grab a couple beers from the aforementioned 2-4. He returns to the back of the truck, popping both bottles open and handing one to Santana before hopping up to take a seat himself.

Santana takes a long swig of the beer as soon as it's in her hand. She once again finds herself in the uncomfortable position of needing someone to talk to, and lord knows if she's gonna open up she's gonna need some lubricating beverages first.

The two sit silently, staring interchangeably out across the field and up at the stars, until Santana nudges Puck's shoulder with her now empty bottle.

He hops off the door and makes his way to the case again, this time returning with a full 6-pack and setting it down between the two of them.

He gets comfortable in his seat again, taking a sip from his still nearly full beer before he speaks. "So, what's got you so worked up, San?" he asks, his voice soft and laced with a level of genuine concern that is so atypically Puck. Santana's almost sure she's the only one who ever sees this side of the boy. Quinn probably saw some of it during her pregnancy, but that was the only other person the Latina could think of.

"More beer first," she states firmly, earning a nod of understanding in return.

The cheerleader empties a second bottle, and then a third, before she finally gathers the courage to start speaking.

"So B loves me," she says flippantly.

Puck remains stone faced. "Yeah," he answers as if it was already common knowledge.

"I mean really _loves_ me. Like she said 'I love you' and shit," the Latina clarifies, looking up at the boy.

Puck turns his head to face the girl. "San, I think you might be the only person on planet earth who didn't see that coming," he smiles kindly.

Santana stays silent, cracking her fourth beer and taking a sip. If she's honest with herself, she did see it coming. She knew that Brittany had to have serious feelings for her to put up with all her shit. She knew it, but she ignored it. She liked the attention, the no-strings-attached affection, the feeling of being wanted without actually having to give a part of herself away. She would've loved to just continue the same way forever.

The problem with Brittany actually saying the words was that it constituted an implicit ultimatum: either love Brittany back―and be willing to give that part of herself away―or lose it all. And while Santana initially found herself choosing the latter, she was now trying to tread the murky waters of avoiding the physical intimacy while maintaining their emotional intimacy. The brunette knows that Brittany will always love her, knows that the blonde may even continue to pine after her, but she also knows that she doesn't possess the ability to love the girl back like she deserves, and to make her believe otherwise would be unfair. And while she acknowledges that being close enough for the blonde to touch without allowing her to touch is potentially cruel, she'll accept the charge of being greedy because she just can't fathom not having the girl in her life.

"So you broke it off with her... and that song was to get her back?" Puck tries to fill in the blanks and, by extension, the silence.

Santana takes another sip. "The song was to get her back as my best friend. The one person who'll actually put up with me and everything that comes along with being my friend." Puck just nods, and she sighs before continuing, "She's awesome, but I can't give her what she wants from me."

Puck lets the words sink in before answering, "But all she wants is you."

Santana takes pause. She downs a big gulp of her drink and turns toward the boy, "But I can't give me away. I'm mine; I'm the only thing I have."

"You have me," Puck says, moving the beer case before shuffling close and taking the girl into his arms reassuringly. "―physically, if you want," he adds, pulling his head back to raise his eyebrows a couple times at the Latina who responds by slapping his arm playfully. She relaxes into his shoulder once more, finding his hold comforting. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?" he asks, just to be sure.

Santana takes a moment, wondering whether she should mention anything about the whole Rachel situation. She decides against it. There would always be more time to figure it out. She simply shakes her head in response, and Puck accepts it.

They sit there just cuddling until Santana finishes her beer, and she doesn't object when Puck suggests that they get going. Chivalrous as he is, he helps her off the flatbed and back into the truck, and again out of the truck once they reach her house. Santana simply shakes her head and smiles when Puck suggestively asks if she needs assistance getting to bed. She gives him a warm hug before he takes off, and then she enters the house.

In her slightly inebriated state, Santana decides to forego the treacherous trip up the stairs, opting to sleep on the couch instead. She strips off her jacket and shoes and collapses onto the soft material, grabbing the blanket from the top of the couch and loosely throwing it over herself. An added bonus of the beer was that she was now more than ready to sleep.

* * *

Santana wakes with a groan as sunlight floods into the living room through the large bay windows. She pulls the blanket over her head and tries to block out the offending light, but without success. It's only when she tries to roll over and drops unceremoniously to the floor that she realizes she's not in her bed. Her eyes shoot open as she sits up and surveys her surroundings, noting with a sigh of relief that she _is_ in her own house. She yawns and rubs her stomach, feeling the ill effects of the early morning beers.

As she stands, she realizes what a bad idea sleeping on the couch truly was. Her already sore muscles now feel worse, despite the fact that she did not think it possible. She struggles into the kitchen and realizes that she still doesn't have any groceries. As she stands there, trying to work out a breakfast plan, she catches sight of the microwave, the time reading 10:22am. "Fuck," she says aloud. She would already be late for second period. She decides that there's no use rushing to get to class late―she'd rather take her time getting ready and show up on time for her lunch meeting with Rachel.

She pours herself a large glass of water and chugs it down before making her way into the downstairs shower. She spends a solid half hour in there letting the hot water work her muscles, easing some of the pain resultant of a lack of proper rest.

When she emerges from the now steam-filled bathroom, her muscles feel monumentally better than they had just a half hour prior. She finds ascending the stairs to be much easier than it had been the previous night, much to her own delight. She enters her room and starts her after shower routine, opting to throw her wet hair up in a ponytail rather than spend the extra time blow drying.

After another twenty minutes she's ready to head out the door. She checks the clock as she's walking out and the time reads 11:21. She'd be slightly late for her lunch meeting, but she'd be there.

After stopping at a drive-thru to grab some lunch, she pulls into her spot in the WMHS parking lot about 15 minutes after the start of the lunch period. She jogs her way into the school and upstairs to the computer lab, garnering questioning glances as she passes students in the hall. She stops outside the lab, slightly doubling over to catch her breath. Once she collects herself, she stands back upright only to see Rachel standing in front of her, looking slightly amused.

"Well, good morning," the diva teases with a smile, earning a roll of the eyes from Santana. "I was starting to think you weren't going to make it, what with missing your morning classes and all..."

Santana crosses her arms in front of her body. "I said I'd be here and I'm here, aren't I?" she asks with an edge in her voice.

Rachel decides she probably shouldn't push the Latina, who doesn't seem to be in the best of moods. "So you are... shall we?" she asks, motioning for Santana to enter the lab.

The two settle into a workstation and Rachel starts browsing the net as Santana pulls out her fast food lunch. As the smell wafts into the room from the Latina's bag, Rachel stares at the source of the offending odour with a completely disgusted look. Santana catches it.

"Oh shut the fuck up, Berry. You know I don't have groceries," she slightly snaps, causing a bit of fear to manifest in the smaller brunette's eyes.

"That's no reason to eat an innocent cow," the diva mumbles before she can catch herself, just hoping that the fiery Latina didn't hear her. She chances a glance up and finds angry eyes burning holes into her own. She clears her throat and turns back to the computer screen, hoping to deflect Santana's anger by shifting their focus to the assignment. "So, where should we start our search?" She takes a quick glimpse back at the cheerleader, whose face seems to slightly soften.

"Just Google 'Billboard #1s,' there should be a Wikipedia listing of number ones," Santana responds absently while enjoying her burger, causing Rachel to stare at her curiously. When the Latina notices her stare, she shrugs, "I looked it up last night, figured it would give us a place to start. They're literally listed by year, which should make this super easy."

Rachel smiles as she turns back to the computer and types in the search as instructed.

The two spend the next 15 minutes reading through the listings and arguing back and forth about song selection. Every option that one came up with the other would veto, citing a wide array of different reasons ranging from "it's just too boring" to "do you seriously think I can rap?" and causing them to end up back where they started.

Santana is shoulder to shoulder with Rachel as she points at the screen, "Right there. What about 'Family Affair' by Mary J. Blige? It was _huge_." She leans back into her chair with her arms crossed and a satisfied smile on her face.

Rachel pastes on a kind smile as she turns to respond, "Veto. It's too simple; it won't show off my vocal capabilities."

The Latina's face drops as she squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Ok Miss Broadway, not all of us can range, like, 5 octaves."

Rachel rolls her eyes in return with a heavy sigh. They were getting nowhere. "Ok, let's approach this from a different angle. Basically what we need is something that falls somewhere in between a Faith Hill and, say, a Britney Spears in terms of difficulty. We need something that's challenging enough for me and, well, _less_ challenging for you..."

Santana screws her face and looks at Rachel disbelievingly, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I _never_ said Faith Hill was too 'challenging,' I just wouldn't be caught dead singing that shit."

Rachel lets the Latina's resistance sink in and thinks back to the bag incident in Santana's driveway the previous night. The diva suddenly catches on to what's happening. She paints a smug look on her face and decides to work this to her advantage. "Right, sure, whatever you say," she responds, snorting her supposed disbelief.

Santana suddenly stands from her chair. "I'm fucking serious! If you wanna do that shit, I'll do it. Seriously. And _I'm_ gonna make _you_ look bad!" she punctuates by pointing at the diva.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asks coyly. "I mean, if you don't feel confident in the song choice, we could totally choose something else..." her cartoon eyes sparkle innocently as she smirks internally, knowing exactly where this is going.

"RACHEL," Santana all but yells, drawing the attention of the remainder of students in the lab who weren't already watching the scene playing out in front of them. "Shut the fuck up, we're doing Faith Hill!"

Rachel lets a million dollar smile spread across her face. Santana just stares down at the brunette, awestruck, as she realizes what just happened. _Rachel-fucking-Berry,_ she muses angrily as she grabs her bag and quickly exits the room.

"She might just get the storm-out down yet." Rachel mumbles as she watches the Latina go.

* * *

As school lets out, Santana finds herself leaning against Puck's truck, waiting for him to show up. Today Santana decided that Puck is probably her best option for a confidant: he'll give his honest, uncensored opinion no matter what it is that she tells him, he'll take it seriously, and he certainly won't tell anyone anything that's said. Santana feels unusually nervous as she waits, starting to fiddle with the bottom of her skirt. She'd certainly require some more liquid courage to divulge her Rachel concerns.

Puck strolls over, a smirk gracing his features as he notices the brunette leaning on his car. "To what do I owe the pleasure, babe?"

Santana looks up and smiles at the boy. "Hey. You wanna come over and hang out?" she asks plainly, a part of her hoping he says no.

His smirk turns into a smile that spreads into his eyes. "Sure. Should we grab some beers first?" he inquires, guessing that the Latina needs to continue the previous night's conversation.

"Definitely," she replies as he unlocks the door for her.

After stopping by the run-down convenience store that accepts Puck's fake ID and the grocery store to grab some essentials for Santana, the two arrive at Santana's house with a case of beer and arms full of groceries. They put everything away and settle into the living area, both working on their first beers.

Santana sits on the opposite side of the couch as Puck, mimicking their seating arrangement from the last time the boy was over. She picks at the label on the neck of the bottle in her hands and sighs a few times before Puck takes the hint.

"So obviously you weren't done talking last night," he suggests with a raised eyebrow, mentally prepared for any potential backfire. The Latina simply shakes her head, leading Puck to continue. "Are we getting drunk tonight?" The cheerleader nods. "Ok cool. What are you gonna do about your car?" he asks seriously.

"Whatever. It can stay there overnight," she answers plainly. She looks up suddenly, "You hungry?"

"Babe, I'm always hungry," he responds playfully, raising his brow a few times suggestively.

Santana just rolls her eyes as she exits towards the kitchen. She puts a frozen pizza into the oven and sets the timer before returning to the living room with another two beers in hand. She places the bottles down on the coffee table and resumes her seat on the couch, facing the boy on the other end.

"You wouldn't tell anyone anything that I tell you, right?" she asks with dead seriousness.

Puck turns in his seat to face the cheerleader, meeting her eyes with his own. "You know me better than that," he deadpans. "You're my girl, I wouldn't play you like that."

Santana continues to hold Puck's eye contact until she's absolutely convinced that what the boy is saying is true. She lets out a breath she didn't even realize she had been holding. She drains the rest of her first bottle and cracks the seal on her second before proceeding.

"Ok. So the whole B thing happened," she starts, but pauses to wait for the boy's nod before continuing. "And so I started avoiding her. I didn't know what to say, and every time I saw her all I could think about is how stupid I am for letting it get this far..." she trails off.

Puck scoots slightly forward and places a reassuring hand on the Latina's knee, trying to lend her the confidence to continue. She looks up and smiles in silent thanks, but drains a good half of her beer before continuing.

"Anyway, so I tried to disappear. I started skipping Spanish, skipping lunch in the caf," the boy nods his head, having noticed all of this. "And I started spending time with the last person I ever wanted to spend time with―"

"Rachel." Puck interjects, just as surprised as Santana that he said the name aloud.

Santana looks at Puck like a deer in the headlights for a few moments before turning her stare down to her now fidgeting hands. She's unsure of how to proceed from here. She clears her throat awkwardly before finishing off her beer. She stands to retrieve another bottle, but Puck grabs her wrist and lightly tugs her back down to the couch.

"No more 'til after food. You want to get drunk, not sick. There's a difference, you know," he warns, the bit of playfulness in his voice easing some of Santana's nerves. "We don't have to talk right now, you know. I'm not in a rush or anything," he smiles.

Santana mirrors his smile, the suggestion lifting a huge weight from her shoulders. "Ok then. Movie?" she suggests, getting up and walking over to the shelf unit, motioning for Puck to follow.

"Fine, but no chick flicks," he states firmly as he stands. Santana just scoffs. As if she would watch a chick flick.

* * *

Two movies, two frozen pizzas, and twelve collective beers later, the two find themselves chatting animatedly about horror films.

"Seriously though, did you see 'Human Centipede'? That shit was fucking insane!" Puck states excitedly, his hands waving about.

Santana laughs louder than she has in recent memory, "I think when you're talking about _that_ movie the word 'shit' actually becomes a pun."

Puck laughs heartily in response. "Ok, so what about 'Battle Royale'? That movie is totally the shit."

"Totally! But I'm still not sure you can really call it a horror movie..." Santana posits as she ponders the statement herself.

"Why? Just cuz no bad guys pop up from behind dark corners?" the boy responds incredulously. "That movie is horror at its fucking best!"

"Ok, ok," Santana cedes, her hands up in submission. "But if we're talking Japanese horror, you can't _not_ mention 'Suicide Club,'"

"YES! That movie is amazing. So much fake blood... it's just..." Puck waves his hands frantically in the air, looking for the words. "It's all over the fucking place!" he responds, his face reading like a child's on Christmas morning.

The two settle into a comfortable silence, the ambient noise of the tv making the situation significantly less awkward. Santana can feel a lightness in her mind and body six beers in that makes her feel relaxed for the first time today. There's a perma-smile plastered on her lips and, though her eyelids feel droopy, she also feels completely lucid.

"So," she breaks the silence. "I think Rachel was gonna kiss me last night."

Puck's eyes widen and he almost spits out his mouthful of beer. Once he finally manages to choke down the beverage, he stares at Santana for an extended period of time with his mouth hanging open, making the Latina feel uncomfortable enough to elbow him in the ribs.

"Ow," the boy vocalizes. "I'm sorry, but just, you know, you can't sneak up on me with something like that. I need time to process and, more importantly, visualize." Puck dramatically closes his eyes and looks up in thought, earning himself a punch in the shoulder.

"Oh shut it, Puckerman." She pauses for a while, wringing her hands together. "So... you don't think there's anything wrong with that, then?" she asks genuinely, raising an eyebrow and biting her lip in trepidation.

"_Wrong_?" Puck spits the word out like spoiled milk. "Babe, you are one of the hottest chicks in the entire school and Rachel is one sexy Jew. If that's wrong, then there's nothing in this world that's right," he shakes his head, his mind running wild with thoughts about the two girls.

Santana feels elated at Puck's approval and, without thinking, leans forward and kisses him briefly before leaning back with a jovial smile. Puck smirks, taking the kiss as an invitation, and leans forward to kiss the cheerleader more deeply, placing a firm hand on the back of her neck. Santana leans into and returns the kiss, losing herself in the moment.

Once she regains her thoughts, she places her hands on Puck's shoulders and pushes him back. The boy obeys, and pulls away with a pout. Santana stares into the mowhawked boy's soft eyes, internally battling with herself. The truth is she needs release and Puck is the perfect outlet for her pent-up desires. She screws her face in thought, her hands still resting on the boy's shoulders.

"Fuck it," she mumbles, sliding her hands up to Puck's neck.

Puck just smirks and raises an eyebrow, moving his hands to Santana's thighs, "I was planning on it."

* * *

**Sincerest apologies if you don't like Pucktana... but they are there. And rest assured, the next few chapters will be very Quintana-, Brittana-, and Pezberry-centric ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

Santana wakes up to her alarm, feeling cold. She turns around to see Puck on the other side of the bed, happily continuing to sleep through the blaring alarm. She leans over him to the nightstand and smacks blindly at the clock, managing to successfully silence the ear-splitting sound. She rolls back to her spot and onto her back. She stares at the ceiling, second thoughts about last night's indiscretion creeping into the forefront of her mind. Today's the day that Santana's plan to hook Puck and Quinn up is going into effect, and now she'd have to do it with the knowledge that less than 24 hours prior she was fucking him.

She shakes the thought from her mind and rolls back toward Puck, shaking the boy by his shoulder. "Puck," she says firmly. Gaining no response, verbal or physical, she rolls the boy onto his back and straddles him. She grabs his face with a hand on either cheek and shakes his head, "PUCK, wake the fuck up!"

The boy beneath her smiles though he doesn't open his eyes. Obviously he's awake. He slides his hands up and down the Latina's sides, "Morning."

Santana rolls her eyes and dismounts the boy, taking the blanket with her as she stands. "Puck, get up. You gotta go home and shower and you have to come back here and get me on your way to school."

The boy groans and turns back onto his stomach, trying to fight his way back to sleep. Santana's not having it. She leans over and gives Puck's ass a firm slap, earning a yelp as the boy turns over.

"Up. Now." She orders.

He stares down at his boxers, "Nope, not yet. But, of course, you could help with that." He raises his eyes to Santana's and raises an eyebrow, nodding back down towards his shorts suggestively.

Santana just scoffs. "Not happening. Get the fuck out of here, it's already 8."

Puck turns his head and looks at the clock for confirmation. "Fuck," he groans.

"I already said no," Santana quips as she walks out of the room towards the bathroom, still wrapped in the blanket. "See yourself out. I'll be ready in 30," she yells back over her shoulder.

Santana busies herself showering and getting ready, and exactly 27 minutes later Puck is in her driveway. She smiles as she looks out the window. For being 'unattainable', she certainly has the boy whipped.

* * *

They get to school on time and Santana proceeds to her classes as planned. First period with Mr. Schue and Brittany works out well―Brittany is so far behind that Santana spends pretty much the entire class just trying to get the blonde back on track. Second period works out better than usual. Not only does she participate in class, but she impresses and, more importantly, quiets Quinn.

By lunch hour, Santana is already sick of the day. She takes pause at her locker, leaning her forehead on the top shelf before deciding on her plan of action. Somehow, despite her best efforts to the contrary, things seem to have become even more complicated. If she goes to the music room―which she'd prefer to do―it implies that she's fine with what happened (or, well, _almost_ happened) with Rachel Monday night. For all intents and purposes, she _is_ fine with what happened on Monday night, but she'd still rather ignore it than have to face it. On the other hand, if she goes to the cafeteria for lunch it implies that things with Brit are all good―which they're far from.

She sighs heavily before deciding to head to the music room―it having become her safe haven over the past week and a half. She and the diva would have to work on their song before Friday's practice anyway, so it'd be worthwhile to put some time in.

Santana stops at the door and hazards a peek in through the window. To her shock and―admittedly―dismay, the room looks empty. She can't believe her eyes. She opens the door and waltzes in, taking her normal seat. _Maybe she's running late... where the hell else would she be?_ Santana wonders to herself as she takes her lunch out.

It's about 15 minutes, a sandwich and an apple later that Santana realizes that Rachel isn't coming. She can't explain what she's feeling, but she almost feels let down. She shrugs and pulls out some homework―_Might as well do something._

* * *

After school Santana closes her locker and starts towards the music room, lost in her own thoughts. She feels someone sidle up to her and link their arms. Not needing to look over to find out who the culprit is, she automatically smiles at the contact. "Hey B," she greets, chancing a quick glance at the blonde.

Brittany's smile really does light up a room, or even an entire hallway. "Hey S," she beams, aiming her pearly whites right at the Latina as the pair stroll at a comfortably slow pace down the hall.

"How's your glee assignment going?" Santana asks, genuinely wondering what the two blondes have come up with.

Brittany sighs and Santana immediately feels guilty for making her smile drop, even slightly. "We haven't decided on a song yet," the blonde pauses, seemingly to collect her thoughts. She scrunches her face slightly. "Quinn's being really picky about it... I just want something to dance to."

The Latina smiles reflexively, knowing how much joy dancing brings the blonde. She decides right then and there that if Quinn forces a slow song onto the cheery girl, she's just gonna have to let her know what's what.

"What about you guys?" the blonde asks in return. "Is Rachel being super bossy?" she adds with a blend of interest and concern lacing her voice, her eyes meeting the side of Santana's head.

"We have our song..." Santana sighs, trying to push down the memory of the massive fail that lead to that decision. "It's not really one _I _would've chosen, but I guess it'll work..." she shrugs slightly, conveying a level of ambivalence with the situation that is very unlike Santana.

Brittany's caught off-guard by it, not expecting the Latina to be so seemingly defeated. "So I guess that's the bossy part..." she trails off with a smile. The two continue on in a silent stroll, only dropping their joined arms when they reach the choir room door.

Santana pulls the door open and holds it for the blonde to walk through. Brittany makes her way over to her seat, but Santana meanders near the front of the room, noticing that Puck has already set up their stools and guitars. The Latina slightly chuckles to herself as she stares at an uncharacteristically nervous Puck, perched atop his stool and wringing his hands together. _He probably even skipped last period, freaking out about getting everything perfect for this, _she muses.

Santana rolls her eyes away from the boy and out across the bleachers, pausing when Rachel's eyes meet her own. She smiles and the diva smiles back, averting her eyes after a couple moments with a light blush inching up her cheeks. The Latina shakes her head, feeling slightly flush herself, and makes her way over to her stool.

As she places the guitar in her lap, she can hear Puck's uneven breathing. She reaches out and places a soft, reassuring hand on his shoulder, "You'll be fine, Pucky." The boy rolls his eyes at the term of endearment, but his breathing does even out and even his posture seems to relax slightly.

Finally Mr. Schue makes his way into the class, stopping at the piano to put down some sheet music. "Ok guys," he claps his hands together. "So today we'll see what's going on with your assignments, but first we have another special performance―this one from Puck and Santana!" He smiles and tries to rouse a round of applause for the two before going to join the rest of the club on the bleachers.

Puck takes a deep breath. "So, this song is dedicated to a girl who gets treated like shit when she deserves the best; a girl who's been through some rough times―a lot of them because of me..." he trails off with a slightly shaky voice.

Santana rolls her eyes and pokes the boy in the side with the neck of her guitar. "Don't fuck it up before you even start, Romeo," she says softly as she sticks out her tongue at him.

"Anyway," Puck continues. "All I want is another chance, so... just consider it?" he requests with a gentle smile, making friendly eye contact with Quinn in an attempt to convey the absolute seriousness and heart behind his words.

Puck looks over at Santana, who smiles and lightly nods back her readiness. He slaps the front of his guitar a few times, counting the beat, before launching into some light beat boxing. Santana starts in on the rhythm guitar, and Puck silently clears his throat.

"I pulled into Nashville, Tennessee  
But you wouldn't even come around to see me,  
And since you're headin' up to Carolina  
You know I'm gonna be right there behind ya,

"'Cause I always have to steal my kisses from you  
Always have to steal my kisses from you  
Always have to steal my kisses from you  
Always have to steal my kisses from you."

As the two harmonize together on the chorus, Santana turns her stare from Puck out towards the group. The majority of the girls and Kurt seem to be completely entranced by his boyish charm as he drawls out the lyrics. However, both Brittany and Rachel are staring straight at, and deeply into, Santana. She starts to feel slightly nervous under their stares and decides to focus exclusively on her fingering. Realistically, she could play these chords in her sleep, but the neck of the guitar is much easier to look at right now than either of her biggest fans. She focuses on her playing and improvises a bit to occupy her attention as Puck starts the second verse.

"Now I love to feel that warm southern rain  
Just to hear it fall is the sweetest sounding thing,  
And to see it fall on your simple country dress  
It's like heaven to me I must confess."

This time as they launch into the chorus, a good majority of the gleeks join in. Santana continues to stare down at her guitar, still not willing to risk a look up. She finds herself smiling and slightly shaking her head in amusement at Puck's pseudo-beat boxing before he starts in on the final verse.

"Now I've been hangin' 'round you for days  
But when I lean in you just turn your head away,  
Whoa, no, you didn't mean that  
She said 'I love the way you think but I hate the way you act'."

Santana pounds out a beat on the guitar frame as Puck runs through the final chorus basically a cappella. As the song wraps up, a warm round of applause fills the room and the Latina finally looks up from her instrument. Quinn looks almost sadly happy, and she's not clapping or cheering like the rest of the group. Santana glances from the blonde back to Puck, whose expression doesn't exactly scream 'overjoyed' either. She can tell that there is a silent dialogue going on that probably doesn't make sense to anyone else other than the two involved.

She removes the guitar from her lap before leaning over and giving Puck a light hug. She pulls back, holding him by the shoulders. "Ya did good, kid," she winks before removing one of her hands to give the boy a light congratulatory punch in the shoulder. She lights up when the boy smiles and nods in response―his silent way of giving thanks.

Santana gets up and makes her way over to her regular seat next to Brittany, the blonde wrapping her up in a tight hug as soon as she sits down. Santana shifts uncomfortably as the blonde's hands start to roam. She reaches back and lightly grasps the offending hands, bringing the palms up to her mouth to lightly kiss them. The blonde beams and the Latina just breathes a silent sigh of relief that she was able to get the blonde off of her without hurting her feelings. As she turns toward the front of the room she sees Rachel, just below and to the right, staring up at her with those big expressive doe eyes. Santana can immediately read both the adoration and a not-so-hidden sadness in the brown orbs that she can't quite figure out.

Her attention is pulled away by Mr. Schuester corralling the class back to attention. "So, everyone please give another round of applause to Puck and Santana," he says as he shoots a smile to both in turn. "That was great, guys! But now on to this week's assignment... is anyone ready to perform?" he finishes with a glance around the room.

* * *

Four pairs were, in fact, ready to perform. First to volunteer were Kurt and Mercedes who did their own take on Beyonce's 'Irreplaceable'. Though it was a fantastic performance vocally speaking, the numerous unnecessary runs were a bit much for Santana's tastes. Next up were Matt and Mike, who had pieced together a quite entertaining dance routine for Outkast's 'Hey Ya' that managed to get the rest of the gleeks clapping and shaking it like a Polaroid picture. Third up were Artie and Tina, who opted to sing a more recent number in Katy Perry's 'California Gurls'. Also prepared to perform were Puck and Finn, but Mr. Schue decided that leaving a solid half of the performances for Friday would work out best.

As practice ends, Santana doesn't leave her seat, opting instead to simply give Brittany a loose hug before the blonde takes off. Rachel is slow as ever packing up her things in the front row. Santana sighs and hoists her bag onto her shoulder before stepping down off of the risers. Rachel doesn't notice the Latina coming and starts to head out of the room until Santana lightly grabs her elbow.

Rachel's caught off-guard, but smiles when she spins and notices that it's the cheerleader requesting her attention. "Hey," she greets softly, suddenly finding her feet more interesting than the Latina's face.

"Hey," Santana greets in kind, her hand retaining its light hold on the diva's elbow. "Where were you today at lunch?" she asks gently, sliding her hand down Rachel's forearm, taking the smaller hand into her own.

Rachel's eyes are now focused solely on their conjoined hands. As she starts to speak, she darts her eyes to the side of the room. "Um, I went to the guidance office," she practically mumbles with a distracted look on her face.

Santana's brow drops as she feels genuine concern wash over her body and run into her eyes. She tugs lightly at Rachel's hand, trying to get the smaller girl to look at her. It works, and suddenly Santana is left breathless. After a few seconds that stretch on for a lifetime for the Latina, she pushes her concern through her eyes, "Are you ok? Nothing bad happened, did it?"

Rachel is shocked by the timbre of Santana's voice―the Latina seems almost scared for her. Rachel shakes her head lightly, looking down for a moment before resuming eye contact. "No no, nothing like that," she says with a light, reassuring smile. "I'm just... confused, about... some of my options, I suppose. I was hoping Miss Pillsbury would have advice or some useful pamphlets or the like."

Santana nods her head, letting her eyes close and releasing a deep sigh as her relief sets in. There's nothing _wrong_ with the tiny brunette. _She's probably just stressing again_. Santana opens her eyes again to see the brown orbs in front of her. She pulls the small girl's hand up to her face and places a light kiss onto her palm―mimicking her gesture to Brittany just a few minutes prior.

Rachel smiles outwardly, but Santana can see the trepidation in her eyes.

Santana lightly tugs on Rachel's hand again, keeping a kind smile on her face. "What's wrong, Rach?"

Rachel looks up at Santana for a moment, then back down at the ground. She takes a couple deep breaths before coming to a decision. She hazards a glance back up into the cheerleader's eyes, searching for some sort of deterrent, but finds only a glistening smile laced with minor concern. She makes her choice.

Rachel tugs Santana's hand with a force the Latina was not expecting. Santana stumbles forward, finding herself flush against Rachel's slight body. Half of her is surprised that her weight didn't knock the tiny girl over; the other half of her is completely lost in the feel of the diva's body against her own and the dark glaze over the shorter girl's eyes. Rachel's free hand finds rest on Santana's shoulder, smoothing over the fabric of her cheerios top before slowly sliding up to her neck. Santana can feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the diva draws lazy patterns with her index finger along the sensitive skin.

Suddenly Rachel stops the pattern, instead placing her hand flat against the Latina's neck. She chances one final look into the Latina's eyes before she tugs down on the girl's neck while rolling up on the balls of her feet, causing their lips to meet in a tentative kiss.

Santana's eyes are wide open in shock as the diva's lips press against hers. _I don't like this, I don't like this, I don't like this,_ she repeats to herself like a personal mantra. Her eyes instinctively drift closed, but she forces them back open and locks her muscles to keep her free hand hanging at her side rather than reaching out to touch the shorter girl.

Rachel pulls back, releasing her hold on both the Latina's neck and hand. She diverts her eyes nervously to the ground again. "Just thought you should know," she murmurs softly before turning and exiting the room silently.

Santana stares after the diva as she's left standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide, completely flabbergasted. She lowers her head and raises a hand to her lips, unsure of how to feel. As she runs her fingers the length of her lips she finds said lips curling up into a hesitant smile. She shakes her head and steels her expression. _I didn't like it,_ she assures herself as she starts to walk; but as she looks up towards the door that the diva just left through, she finds herself smiling again. _Except I kinda did._

* * *

After taking an extended detour home to collect her thoughts, Santana finally walks into her house around 7:30. She changes her clothes and tosses a frozen pizza into the oven before collapsing onto her usual spot on the couch. She slides a hand under her head as she stares up at the ceiling, running her other hand absently over her stomach. She can't shake the sensation of Rachel's lips against her own from her mind. As she thinks about it her hand drifts up from her midsection to her lips once again. Truth be told, the kiss was the first time that Santana had felt a genuine _emotion _in longer than she can remember. She felt it. She felt passion, she felt lust, she felt _want_. She's less than thrilled to admit it to herself, but she _wants_ Rachel Berry.

_Why Rachel-fucking-Berry? _She wonders. Of all the available options, there are certainly far better candidates. Choosing either Puck or Brittany―who both clearly want her in one way or another―would help her maintain her social dominance and general reputation as Queen Bee. So really, why Rachel? She starts to run through the diva's qualities in her mind. _She's conceited, self-centred, a fucking know-it-all, spoiled-ass brat_. Santana scoffs outwardly, but finds herself smiling again as her mind continues. _She's also smart, occasionally funny, sweet, kind, soft, pretty..._ Santana finds herself sliding her hand back down to her stomach and unconsciously licking her lips. As she registers the path her hand is continuing on, she sits up suddenly, shaking her head. _What the fuck am I even thinking?_

Santana stands up and retrieves her cell phone from her jacket. She returns to the couch, flipping the tv on before scrolling through her contacts. She hovers on Rachel's name but decides against sending the diva a text, realizing that anything she could say would probably raise more questions than answers. She chances a glance above Rachel's name and sees Quinn's. She seriously considers the idea of texting the blonde. The fact is Santana needs to talk to someone about her feelings―someone with whom her first instinct isn't to fall into bed.

She runs through her options again. Brittany is so far from an option it's not even funny. First of all, there are her feelings to consider. Talking to Brittany about another girl would be the equivalent of slapping her across the face: 'you love me, but you can't have me, I want this other chick instead'. Then there's Puck. _Been there, done that_. She outwardly groans at the unintentionally bad pun in her thoughts. Puck's a great friend and a great listener, but just the previous night she had found herself reverting to something old and comfortable rather than tackling the significantly uncomfortable issue she's been trying to deal with. Finally there's Quinn. The blonde seems to have been showing genuine concern for her the past couple weeks―at least in between biting remarks about Rachel. Fact of the matter is that, as much as she would love to avoid her blonde stalker altogether, the girl is truly her best option. Quinn has already put the offer of friendship on the table, now it's just up to Santana to accept it.

Santana rolls the thought around in her mind a couple times before finally deciding to extend an olive branch. Truth be told, she was wondering what was up with Quinn's reaction to Puck's performance today anyway. _Whatever that total eye-fucking was all about..._

She taps out a message. 'Wanna come over, hang out, talk, whatever?' She rereads it a couple times before just giving up and hitting send as she realizes that it doesn't matter what she writes, it's still going to read awkward.

'Sure. Does this mean we're fucking BFFs now?' Comes the sarcastic reply.

Santana rolls her eyes and types a quick response. 'Tubby, I've got pizza here. Are you coming to get fat or not?'

':P I'll be over soon. Fatty out.' Santana chuckles lightly at the response.

With that settled, Santana resumes her spot lying on the couch and turns her attention to the tv―some rerun of a shitty sitcom. She loses herself in the inanity of the show until the oven timer pings. She hustles to the kitchen and pulls the pizza out, setting it down on the counter to cool off. As she opens the fridge to grab something to drink, the doorbell rings.

She makes her way to the entryway and opens the door with a smile. "Hey," she greets.

"Hi," the blonde greets with a kind smile matching Santana's own. The two stand awkwardly for a couple seconds, and Santana wonders when things got this weird between them.

She shakes her head and steps back, feeling silly. "Sorry, come in." She gestures inside the house with her free hand.

The blonde slides past and removes her jacket as Santana closes and locks the door. The Latina turns around and takes the blonde's jacket, hanging it on one of the hangers in the closet. Once she turns back to face Quinn, she's at a loss. The two stand silently for a couple awkward moments.

"So... there was a promise of pizza?" Quinn raises an eyebrow.

"Right, yeah, it actually just came out of the oven." She leads the blonde to the kitchen and they both take a couple slices onto plates. Before heading out to the living room Santana wanders over to the fridge. "Want anything to drink?"

The blonde nods in return, "Whatcha got?"

"Well, there's water, orange juice... and beer." As Santana finishes, she props her chin on top of the fridge door, waiting for Quinn's response.

"Beer? Really?" Quinn asks in between bites of her pizza.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Yeah, Puck was over here the other night and I inherited the leftovers."

Quinn's posture noticeably stiffens at the mention of the boy's name. The blonde pauses for a minute, thoughtfully. "Fuck it, give me a beer."

Santana lifts her head and raises a questioning eyebrow. "Really, Q? Didn't peg you as a beer drinker." She laughs in slight disbelief as she leans back into the fridge, grabbing a beer for the blonde and one for herself as well. She emerges with the two bottles and hands one to the blonde before grabbing her plate.

The two make their way into the living room and settle on the couch. Santana grabs the remote from the armrest and offers it to the blonde. "I don't know what's on, I don't usually watch tv," she explains with a shrug.

The blonde puts her plate and bottle down on the coffee table as she takes the remote and starts aimlessly flipping channels. "I was kind of surprised to get your text," she says casually.

Santana chews a bite of pizza and takes a swig of her beer, buying herself some time to think before responding. "Well, I figured we've been through enough shit that we could probably stand a peace treaty." She says it with a bit of a smirk, drawing a knowing smile and nod from the blonde.

"Fair enough," she responds, still slightly wary of the Latina. They sink into a bit of an uncomfortable silence, so she turns her attention back to the tv until she finds a channel worth watching.

Santana quirks an eyebrow when she notices what Quinn has settled on. "A cartoon? Really?" She turns to face the blonde with an incredulous look on her face.

Quinn takes a sip of her beer and a slight grimace crosses her face, causing the Latina to chuckle internally. The blonde clears her throat. "It's not a 'cartoon' in the kid sense. It's 'Clone High' and it's hilarious." She says seriously, causing Santana to scoff outwardly.

"It's still a fucking cartoon," she mutters before taking another bite of her pizza.

"Well, I'm assuming you didn't invite me over here to watch tv anyway..." the blonde trails off, turning herself on the couch to sit cross-legged, facing the Latina.

Santana swallows her mouthful of beer and turns to meet hazel eyes. She sighs, "Well, not really I suppose..." A silence settles in between the two.

"I'm not sleeping with you." Quinn deadpans, trying to lighten the mood.

Santana can't help but laugh as she rolls her eyes, "Fucking hilarious, Q."

"I thought so," the blonde counters with a shrug and a broad smile on her face. She chokes down another mouthful of her beer and slightly drops her brow before heading into more serious territory. "So, what's up with you and B these days?"

Santana sighs and drops her brow, sending a questioning glance in Quinn's direction, guessing that Brittany is not the person she's actually wondering about. She takes another sip of her beer and stares down at the bottle, tearing at the label. "We're friends again."

"Just friends, then?" Quinn asks, for clarification.

Santana meets the blonde's hazel eyes with her own and says it firmly, "Just friends." Quinn scoffs, causing Santana to launch into it. "I really don't get you, Q. First you tell me I'm not good enough for B and that I'm hurting her, then you get mad at me when I actually _do_ break it off with her, and _now_ you're all convinced that I'm fucking Berry or some shit." Santana's expression doesn't falter as she stares harshly at the blonde.

Quinn takes another healthy swig from her bottle, noting it doesn't taste as bad anymore. "I'm not mad at you for breaking up with B―I think it's for the best. I just think it's a little insensitive to jump from B to Rachel like B meant nothing at all." Her eyes are sincere as they meet Santana's own.

Santana doesn't respond.

"Not to mention, it's _Rachel-fucking-Berry_." The blonde adds, but with a softness that manages to subvert the Latina's reflexive anger.

"I know," Santana sighs exhaustedly, honestly hating that fact that it _is_ Rachel-fucking-Berry who she finds herself having feelings for.

"You like her," Quinn states as fact more so than as a question. Santana simply nods, leading Quinn to sigh. She takes another swig of her beer and pulls her knees up to her chest. "How did it even happen? I mean, didn't you, like, _hate_ her a few weeks ago?"

Santana drains a good portion of her bottle before fiddling with it in her lap. "Honestly?" She looks up to be met by an encouraging nod from the blonde. Her stare returns to her lap. "I think I hated her because I was supposed to hate her." She says it plainly and Quinn doesn't respond, seemingly waiting for the Latina to continue. She sighs. "But then everything with B happened, and, like, I found myself spending time with Rachel more out of... well... necessity than actual want. But as we spent time together, I got to know her some... and I started wanting to spend _more_ time with her... to get to know her _better_."

A slight look of confusion crosses the blonde's face as she seems unable to compute the idea of wanting a friendship with the diva, but she smiles at Santana. She pauses for a moment, preparing herself for any potential backlash from her next question. "So, you have actual _feelings_, then?"

Santana's eyes widen at hearing the words spoken out loud and, while her instinct tells her to absolutely ream out the blonde, she just drops her eyes to her bottle and nods lightly. "I think so."

This time Quinn's eyes widen and she silently nods, trying to digest the Latina's words. "Wow."

Santana just takes another sip of her beer and then extends her arm, shaking the now empty bottle in Quinn's general direction. "Another?"

Quinn drains the final quarter of her bottle and smiles. "Why the hell not," she cedes, handing her now empty bottle to the brunette, who smiles in return.

The Latina returns shortly with two fresh bottles, handing one to Quinn before she retakes her seat facing the blonde. "So... what about you and Puck?" she asks as she rests her arm on the back of the couch and props her head on her hand.

Quinn screws her face, "What _about_ me and Puck?" She takes a long swig of her new beer, seemingly trying to wash the name from her mouth.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Well, it's not exactly a mystery who he was singing to today..." she leaves it hanging, waiting for the blonde to say something. When she doesn't, Santana sighs, "Q, it's not a fucking trick question. Do you like Puck? Would you date him again?"

Quinn takes another chug from the bottle before placing it down on the table, freeing her hands to start circular motions on her temples as she closes her eyes. "I honestly don't know," the blonde says plainly, pausing for a couple minutes before speaking again. "I mean, we never really dated. He got me drunk, he got me pregnant, and then he tried to make up for it by doing the right thing."

Santana shifts her stare from the blonde down to her own bottle; she lifts it to her lips and takes a healthy swig herself. She knows the story behind how Beth came to be, and although she genuinely loves Puck like a brother, she knows how shitty what he did to Quinn is. She sighs, wondering if she should say anything further about the boy at all.

Santana only looks up when she sees a bottle enter her peripheral vision. Quinn has already downed her second beer. Clearly, talking about the boy was broaching a sensitive topic. "Another." Quinn says firmly.

Santana drops her brow and turns around to grab her phone from the side table. When she turns back to face the blonde she holds the phone out to her, causing Quinn to raise an eyebrow questioningly. "You're not driving home on three," Santana says plainly. "Call your mom and tell her you're staying here overnight." Quinn rolls her eyes, but retrieves her own phone from her pocket and does as instructed.

Santana heads into the kitchen. She puts Quinn's empty down on the countertop and turns to lean her back against it, lingering in the kitchen both to finish her beer and to give the blonde some privacy on her call.

After about a minute, the blonde finds her way into the kitchen. "What, did you get lost on the way to the fridge?" she ribs.

Santana rolls her eyes as she finishes off the remainder of her drink. She places the empty down and pushes off the counter towards the fridge. "Someone's a little impatient..." she counters as she leans in to retrieve the bottles.

"Whatever." The blonde responds with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just beer me."

Santana looks up from the fridge with an eyebrow cocked in disbelief. "Excuse me, Tubs? What about a 'please' somewhere in there?" she chides as she closes the fridge door.

Quinn scoffs. "_Please_," she emphasizes. "You know as well as I do that Puck bought those." She points at the bottles in the Latina's hands. "I shouldn't have to ask; it should be, like, post-partum child support or something like that."

Santana laughs slightly, feeling nostalgic at the comfort developing between her and the former cheerleader. "I miss us hanging out like this." She says it before she computes it, raising her eyes uncertainly to meet the blonde's.

"I do too, S." Quinn smiles sincerely as she takes one of the bottles from the Latina's hands. "But I think I'm liking it better with beer involved..."

Santana chuckles lightly again. "Ok, lush." She teases.

The pair settle back into their spots in the living room. Quinn starts to fiddle with her bottle, obviously concerned that the topic of Puck is going to stay on the forefront. Santana notices and decides to rescue the girl. She takes a long swig of her drink before she says it.

"Rachel kissed me."

Quinn almost spits out her mouthful of beer as her eyes bulge out of their sockets. She coughs as she tries to choke the beverage down. She puts the bottle down and waves her hands disbelievingly in the air, "Whoa, whoa, whoa." She pauses to collect herself, hands still out in front of her body. "When did _this_ happen?"

Santana takes another sip, finding the golden liquid comforting at the moment. "Today. Just after glee, actually," she adds absently.

Quinn is agape, but suddenly her expression morphs into a knowing one. "HA!" Quinn practically screams, experiencing a personal eureka moment. She retrieves her bottle from the table, taking a swig before leaning back and crossing her arms in satisfaction.

Santana finds herself completely lost, "Sorry, what?"

The blonde waves her hands around excitedly, and Santana laughs internally at how much of a hand-talker the blonde is turning into the more that she drinks. "Ok, so, just so you know, Rachel's like totally in love with you." The blonde smiles smugly.

This time the Latina almost chokes on her beer, using a fist to beat her own chest as she coughs uncontrollably. "I'm sorry, _what_?" she coughs out, unwilling to wait until the end of her fit.

"Oh. My. God." Quinn's face washes over with thought.

Santana can see the blonde making mental connections but starts growing more than slightly annoyed with her lack of sharing. She scoots forward and reaches her hands out to Quinn's shoulders, shaking her firmly. "QUINN, what the fucking fuck?"

Quinn raises a finger, trying to collect her thoughts before she clears her throat and speaks. "Ok, so, the day you sang the song for B, Rachel does a full storm out _when_?"

Santana raises an eyebrow, "I don't know... after?"

Quinn shakes her head in disbelief that the Latina can't see it. "Ok, and today, Rachel's looking at you like you just shot her dog _when_?"

Santana furrows her brow in thought, until she looks up in seeming realization. "Oh my god,"

Quinn nods, "Yeah. Every time you and Brit show any kind of affection she looks like the world just ended." The blonde can't help but shake her head again. "I can't believe I didn't see it earlier. I thought it was just Rachel being insane―like always."

Santana takes a long swig of her beer. All the pieces fit together. The storm out, the sadness, the stares, the―_Oh. My. God._ Santana can feel the colour run out of her face.

Quinn sees the new rush of realization all over the Latina's face and pokes her, "What is it?" She's far too excited for Santana's liking.

"Um," the Latina tries to piece together her memories of the afternoon. "Well, yeah, ok." She nods to herself, putting the pieces together in her head.

Quinn impatiently spins her index fingers around one another, encouraging the Latina to continue.

She sighs and puts a hand against her forehead as she speaks. "Today in practice, B was getting a little friendly with her hands so I pulled them away," she pauses to take a swig of her beer. "And I kissed them both so that she wouldn't look at me all like I dropkicked a duck." Quinn nods, having just mentioned the same moment, as she bounces in her seat, impatiently waiting to see where the story goes. "_After_ practice, I wanted to talk to Rachel... anyway, I kissed her hand... the same way I kissed B's... and it was after that..."

Quinn jumps in at Santana's hesitance. "She kissed you after you showed her the same affection you showed B!"

Santana can't help but laugh at the blonde, who looks like she just won a free trip wrapped in a million dollar bill resting on the hood of a new car.

Quinn finally calms down slightly. "Yeah, she totally loves you." She takes a swig of her beer and stares at the Latina with a wide smile. "And _you_ opened the door."

Santana smiles kindly back but can't help but think of the implications. While she admittedly harbours some sort of feelings for Rachel, _love_―regardless of whether it's from Brittany or Rachel―still holds the same weight, and Santana doesn't want to bear it.

Quinn takes another swig of her beer. Seeing the conflicted look on the Latina's face, she's unsure of whether she should press on or not. She decides to risk it. "So... what are you gonna do about it?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. "Are you actually considering dating Rachel Berry?"

Santana takes a few healthy sips of her beer as she chews her lips for a few minutes in thought. "I honestly have no fucking idea," is all she can come up with when she finally speaks.

Quinn just nods her head, noticing the parallel between the confusion that they were both experiencing with respect to Puck and Rachel.

Santana doesn't move or speak until she feels the couch shift. She looks up, noticing for the first time that Quinn has left and come back, her arm outstretched with a fresh beer for the Latina. She looks down at the bottle in her hands, registering that it's empty for the first time. She mindlessly places her empty down on the coffee table and takes the proffered beer from the blonde's hand.

"So what do you think," Quinn breaks the silence. "Movie then bed?" She smiles genuinely at the Latina, trying to ease her worries.

Santana looks up at the blonde and nods with a small smile, thankful for the distraction. She chances a glance at the clock, noticing it's already past 10. She breathes a sigh of relief as she remembers that tomorrow's cheerios practice is an afternoon one.

Quinn pops up from the couch and heads over to the entertainment unit, leaning down to check the selection of films. "Wow, you've got a lot of horror movies," the blonde remarks, running her fingers over the spines of the numerous DVD cases.

"Yeah, I honestly love horror movies," Santana replies, taking a sip of her beer before getting up to join the blonde.

"Me too," Quinn turns her head towards the Latina with a smile before returning her eyes to the shelf. "Any preference?" She asks, looking up again. Santana simply shakes her head. "Ok, this one. I haven't seen it yet," she explains, selecting a case and handing it to the cheerleader.

Santana looks at the blonde in amazement, "You love horror and you haven't seen 'Phantasm'?" She chuckles, lightly shaking her head.

"I know, I know," Quinn responds, hands up in defeat. "It's one of the 'classics' or whatever," the blonde actually makes air quotes, causing Santana to chuckle slightly. "But I've honestly just never gotten around to seeing it."

* * *

By the time the movie ends, the remainder of the beers are gone and the time is nearing midnight. As the credits start to roll, Santana glances over at Quinn who seems to simply be staring blankly at the screen.

"Earth to Quinn," Santana teases after a couple minutes, finally causing the blonde to turn towards her.

"Really?" the blonde asks incredulously. "_That's_ one of the classics?"

Santana chuckles and rolls her eyes. "Q, it was made in 1979. I'm sure it was reasonably terrifying at the time."

The blonde just shakes her head. "I don't know. I-I just don't get it."

The Latina lightly chuckles again as she gets up to take out the disc and return it to the shelf. She turns off the player and the tv and turns back to face the blonde, who's now looking at her thoughtfully. "What?" Santana asks, slightly self-conscious.

"I think it'd be ok." Quinn says plainly, as if the Latina would have any inkling what she is talking about.

Santana raises an eyebrow, "And you're talking about...?"

Quinn clears her throat and clarifies. "You and Rachel... I think it'd be fine. If you two dated or whatever. I mean, _I_ don't have any problem with the idea." She smiles kindly.

"Well thanks for the approval, Q. Now that I know _you're_ fine with it, I can finally sleep soundly," Santana responds sarcastically, sticking her tongue out at the blonde as she walks back to the couch. She tries to keep her expression playful, but as the seconds tick by, concern washes over her face.

Quinn reads it like a picture-book. "You're worried about B."

Santana nods as she falls back into her seat, facing Quinn. She clasps her hands in her lap, wringing them together roughly. Suddenly the blonde's hands come to rest on top of one of her own and she stops.

"Give it time. I know I was giving you shit about it, but..." Quinn stops to collect her thoughts. "Well, just because you can't make _her_ happy, doesn't mean _you_ don't deserve to be happy." She smiles softly at the Latina and the Latina smiles back, leaning forward to hug her.

"Thanks Q," Santana breathes softly into Quinn's ear as the blonde's hands run reassuringly up and down her back.

Quinn pulls away to look in the Latina's eyes. "I'm still not sleeping with you." She jokes, earning a light laugh and an eye roll from Santana.

* * *

**The song Puck sings is 'Steal My Kisses' by Ben Harper.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Ohai friends. So I'm not going to be able to publish what's become the usual Thursday chapter this week cuz I've got a shit load of grading to do and a conference to get ready for. However, I'll be back next Monday with an extra long chapter to make up for it ;)**

**AND, fair warning, this chapter's a little closer to M than any of the previous ones (possibly nsfw). Enjoy!**

* * *

Santana wakes to a knocking on her bedroom door. She glances over to her alarm clock, the time reading 7:12 am. "What the fuck?" she yells as she shuts her eyes again, not bothering to turn towards the door.

The door creaks open slightly, and a blonde head pops in. "Hey," she greets softly. "I'm gonna take off, I've gotta go shower and change before school. Do you want a ride?"

Santana groans and rolls over onto her back, now looking at the blonde and squinting in thought. "Nah, I've got cheerios after school."

Quinn nods lightly. "Ok. I left your clothes on the bed. Thanks for inviting me over, it was... fun," the blonde notes, seemingly surprised that the word is honestly spoken. "I'll see you in English?"

"Yeah, yeah, just fuck off already so I can go back to sleep," the Latina says tiredly, waving a hand blindly in the air as she turns back to her original sleeping position. The extra 45 minutes of sleep before Santana's alarm goes off are absolutely necessary, and the more Quinn talks the more she's cutting into that time.

Quinn chuckles and shakes her head slightly as she quietly makes her exit.

* * *

Santana pulls into the WMHS parking lot around her normal time, but finds that her usual spot is occupied. She drives around the main lot and the back lot looking for an empty space, but to no avail. For whatever reason, this morning the lots are exceptionally crowded. _What the fuck..._ Santana sighs and decides to park on the street, seeing no other option.

The morning passes relatively quickly. First period with Brittany turns out to be a bit of fun with a language exercise that provides Santana the opportunity to assist the blonde in improving her vocal Spanish. Though Santana's pretty sure the blonde will never be able to properly roll her 'R's, she can't help but laugh at her vain attempts and try to help her out. Second period also turns out to be a lot better than usual. With no awkwardness left between Quinn and the Latina, they actually find themselves laughing together as they dramatically read out scenes from Shakespeare with one another.

When lunch rolls around, Santana grabs her things from her locker and heads to the music room to meet up with Rachel. When she gets to the door, she can hear Rachel doing her vocal warm-ups inside.

She pulls the door open quietly and provides her usual greeting with a light knock on the door. "Hey," she greets softly as she enters the room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. Rachel turns around and perks up at the sight of the cheerleader.

"Hi," she greets shyly. "I wasn't sure you'd show up..." she trails off nervously, wringing her hands together in front of her body.

Santana raises her hand in a gesture to wave off Rachel's nerves. "Don't be silly. We have to perform tomorrow, and obviously I want to be the best," she smiles.

A smile spreads across Rachel's face in return. "Well good then," she says excitedly, as she skips over to the Latina and hands her some sheet music. Santana just raises an eyebrow at the girl. "I've taken the liberty of arranging the piece to best showcase our respective vocal capabilities," she explains with a bit of playfulness in her voice.

As Rachel skips back over to the piano, Santana looks down at the music in her hands, flipping through the pages before looking back up in disbelief. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," she says with a scoff.

Rachel simply turns her head back to look at the Latina with a questioning expression, "Hm?"

"Um, you've basically got me singing back-up the entire song..." Santana trails off, her eyes back on the sheets in her hands as she flips through them once more.

When Santana looks back up, Rachel nods. "Obviously the best way to do this is to have my _far_ superior voice showcased while you simply enhance its effect with your input." Her expression is as serious as a heart attack as she continues to stare at the cheerleader.

Santana's face completely knots up. _Is this girl for fucking real?_

As the Latina's face starts to reflect the desired reaction, Rachel just shakes her head with a broad smile and a slight laugh. "I'm just kidding," she clarifies as she walks back up to the now slack-jawed Latina and hands her the proper arrangement.

Santana doesn't know whether to laugh or what. She awkwardly chuckles her disbelief and looks over the new sheets in her hands as she makes her way over to a seat in the front row.

The two spend the rest of the hour going over the arrangement, making minor alterations and just practicing their parts until the warning bell rings. The two stand and start to pack their bags up. Rachel turns toward Santana, "So, should we practice again tomorrow at lunch?"

Santana smiles, "Yeah, I guess that's a pretty solid plan." Aside from the actual practicing there hadn't been much interaction between the pair, both still holding lingering questions about the previous day's kiss and neither willing to vocalize them.

Rachel fidgets with the pencil in her hands. "Well, ok then. I guess I'll see you tomorrow..." she trails off awkwardly as she turns to walk out of the room, at a compete loss for what to say.

"Hey," Santana says softly, reaching out and taking Rachel's retreating hand into her own. Rachel's turns and lifts her eyes to meet the Latina's. "We're ok." Santana says simply, giving the smaller hand a reassuring squeeze. Rachel smiles in return, but turns her head away. Santana reaches up her free hand and lightly holds the diva's cheek, turning her head so that their eyes meet once more. "I mean it," she says as she runs her thumb softly back and forth across the smooth skin.

They stand there like this for a couple seconds, each waiting for the other to make a move, before the door opens and they quickly pop apart. Afternoon session music students are starting to arrive in the classroom. Both girls turn their heads away, aware of the fact that they are sporting Titan red across their faces at the moment.

"Uh, I should get to class," Santana states lamely as she scurries out of the classroom.

"Yeah, me too!" Rachel says a little too excitedly as she follows closely behind.

* * *

After cheerios practice the team makes their way back into the locker room. Though today's practice was shorter than Monday's, it was only slightly less gruelling. Santana leans her head on her locker and sighs, a familiar exhaustion running through her body. Brittany skips over and unlocks the locker next to hers, cheerful as ever. Santana turns her head to her right, sending the blonde a smile, completely baffled at how the girl can always be so energetic.

Brittany smiles back and proceeds to strip down. She pulls off her shirt and Santana's eyes instinctively drift over her body. Santana wonders if it's even possible, but the blonde seems to look even better than she did just a couple weeks ago. She catches herself staring and stands upright, turning her attention to opening her own locker.

After showering, Santana changes into jeans and a WMHS track shirt before locking her locker again. Brittany bounces over in her towel, "Hey S," she smiles as she opens her locker.

Santana glances over. "Hey B," she smiles back as she leans her shoulder against the cool metal.

Brittany slides her underwear on, keeping her towel in place as she does, but removes her towel as she reaches in her locker to grab her bra. Santana immediately turns red and turns away from the blonde, who notices and chuckles slightly. Once Brittany has her bra and jeans on she places a soft hand on Santana's shoulder. "It's ok, I'm dressed, you can look now," she smiles as she turns back to her locker to retrieve her shirt.

Santana turns around and her eyes drift up and down the blonde's torso. Two weeks is the longest they've gone without hooking up in a really long time, and Santana can quickly feel the withdrawal effects kicking in. Brittany pulls her shirt on and turns back towards the Latina, who looks slightly flustered. "So, wanna walk out together?"

Santana looks up to Brittany's eyes and smiles, "Sure."

The pair link arms and head out to the back parking lot―where Brittany parks, and close to where Santana had parked for the day. As they reach Brittany's car, the blonde slides her hand down the Latina's arm to grab her hand. "So where did you park today?"

Santana turns to face the blonde and blindly gestures over to the street. Brittany follows the gesture, staring over the Latina's shoulder with a confused look on her face. Santana can't help but ask, "What's up, B?"

Brittany seems to look around slightly before answering. "I don't see your car, San," she responds, a more concerned look now playing across her features.

Santana spins on her heel and notices that her car is, in fact, missing. "What the fuck?" She pulls out of Brittany's grasp and jogs over to where her car should be. It's definitely not there. "Oh my god, someone stole my car." Santana says incredulously, bringing a hand to rest on her forehead.

Brittany jogs over to catch up to the brunette, catching her words. "Um, maybe it just moved," she suggests in all seriousness.

Santana rolls her eyes and, as she does, catches sight of the 'no parking' sign right above her head for the first time. She groans in frustration, dropping her head and running her hands over her face as realization washes over her. "Fuck," she mutters to no one in particular.

Brittany's face screws in concern, "What's wrong?"

Santana sighs, "My car was towed, B."

Brittany paints a sad smile on her face, "So... need a ride?"

* * *

It's shortly after 6 by the time the cheerleaders pull into Santana's driveway. They sit in a somewhat awkward silence for a few minutes before Santana turns in her seat to face the blonde. "Do you want to come in for dinner?" she smiles, hoping they can start hanging out again like nothing had ever changed.

A broad smile spreads across Brittany's face and she nods as she turns off the ignition. "What are we having?"

* * *

The pair eat a quick meal consisting of grilled cheese sandwiches before making it up to Santana's room. The two cheerleaders lie on their backs with their heads on opposite sides of the bed in silence, with at least Santana feeling utterly exhausted from practice. After about 15 minutes of this, Brittany breaks the silence.

"Is Puck Canadian?" she genuinely inquires.

Santana sits up at the question and gazes down at the blonde in confusion. "Um, what?"

Brittany angles her head to stare at the Latina. "He's been saying 'fucking eh' a lot lately and I thought only Canadians said 'eh'," she says with a serious face.

Santana doesn't want to tease the blonde but can't stifle the laugh that escapes her lips. Brittany's face drops slightly, causing Santana to reach out a hand and place it on the girl's forearm in reassurance. "Oh B," she says with a kind smile. "It's 'fucking _A_', as in the letter A. It means 'fucking awesome'."

Brittany smiles at the Latina's tender nature of dealing with her. Brittany knows she's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but where most people grow frustrated with her, Santana always takes the time to correct her. The blonde pulls her arm back from Santana's grasp to prop herself up on her elbow as she reaches out her other hand to conjoin their fingers. "Fucking A," she says softly, as if testing out the expression for herself.

Santana lightly chuckles and shakes her head, "Fucking A, B."

The blonde shifts again so that she's upright on her knees, taking Santana's other hand into her free one and throwing a leg over the Latina so that she is now straddling a still sitting-up Santana. Santana decides to play along and see where it's going. The two start play wrestling, arms pushing back and forth. After a few minutes of mutual struggle, Santana gains the advantage and uses it to flip the pair over so that she is now on top of a lying down Brittany.

"Ha! I win!" Santana celebrates, sitting up with her arms raised in victory. To further rub it in, she flexes her right bicep before planting a kiss on it. When she looks back down at the blonde with her tongue out, she can tell that something in those blue eyes has shifted.

Before Santana can even compute what's happening, Brittany reaches up and balls her fists in the Latina's track shirt, pulling her down into a kiss. As Santana reflexively relaxes into the embrace, she braces her weight by putting her hands down on either side of Brittany's shoulders. It's not until the blonde's hands start to creep a little too far up the front of her t-shirt that Santana realizes what's happening and pulls away. She sits back on her heels, removing the blonde's hands by taking them into her own.

She waits until Brittany's eyes meet her own and sighs, "B, I thought we cleared this up. We're just friends now."

"_Best_ friends," Brittany corrects as she arches up to try to kiss the Latina again.

Santana releases her hold on the blonde's hands to gently push her back down by her shoulders. "But we're not dating," she clarifies, moving her hands to rest on her knees.

Brittany runs her now free hands up the insides of Santana's jean-clad thighs, sliding out at the top to latch them onto the Latina's hips. She licks her lips seductively as she squeezes the hips in her grasp lightly before speaking. "But sex isn't dating."

Santana bites her lip as her own words come back to haunt her. She has an all-too-familiar feeling migrating between her legs and her mouth has run dry once again.

Brittany sees the darkness cloud the Latina's eyes at her words and moves one of her hands to cup Santana through her jeans. Santana moans lightly at the contact, causing the blonde to smile knowingly. "You don't have to love me back for us to do this," she says huskily.

Santana's breaths are already bordering on ragged as she stares down at the blue eyes beneath her, filled with sincerity. She feels like shit for doing it, but she nods her head encouragingly.

Brittany's smile spreads the width of her face as she shifts one hand to the back of the Latina's thigh and the other to the small of her back and rolls them both over, now lying flush against the Latina's body. She lightly growls as she captures the lips beneath her. She runs her tongue along the length of Santana's bottom lip, begging for entry.

Santana opens her mouth and lets herself fade into Brittany. She puts her hands on the blonde's hips and squeezes them before letting her hands slide around the lithe body and up the back of her shirt. Brittany's own hands resume their previous spot, starting to slide up the front of the Latina's shirt. She massages Santana's abs as their tongues continue to dance. Santana's hands continue their journey up and she lightly rakes her nails down the blonde's shoulder blades, drawing a light moan.

At the slight break in lip contact, Santana takes the initiative and moves her hands back up the blonde's sides, taking the girl's shirt with her. Brittany removes her hands from the Latina's midsection and helps remove the offending item. Once she is free of her shirt, she returns the favour, pulling Santana up slightly to make the task easier. Once both cotton garments are discarded, Brittany settles back down onto the Latina's body, letting their skin meet with only the thin fabric of their bras still separating them. She latches her lips onto the brunette's pulse point and starts alternating between soft bites and licks.

Santana groans as she starts to grow impatient. She reaches around the blonde's torso, quickly unclasping the barrier to her goal. She slides the straps down the blonde's shoulders, biting onto one of them lightly. Noting that the bra is now trapped between them, she quickly rolls the blonde onto her back so that she is on top. She sits up slightly, drawing a disappointed groan from the girl beneath her, whose hands are massaging her abs in anticipation. In apology, she reaches back and undoes the clasp on her own bra, letting her brown eyes meet blue ones. She slides her bra from her shoulders as the blonde's hands slide further up her torso. As soon as she tosses the fabric to the side, Brittany's hands are on her breasts, kneading the sensitive mounds. She moans lightly, but removes the blonde's hands temporarily so that she can finally slide the girl's own bra off and toss it into the increasing pile of discarded clothing beside the bed.

Santana settles down once more so that their now naked upper bodies are flush against one another. Both girls release a low moan as their breasts meet and Santana dives into Brittany's mouth once again, her hands starting to roam along the blonde's sides. Brittany slides her hands up Santana's back and then brings them around her torso, teasing the sides of the Latina's breasts with light grazes from her thumbs. Santana can feel the pool accumulating between her legs as she sinks further into the familiar feel of the blonde.

In a swift move, Brittany flips the pair so that she's on top once more. She can sense Santana's impatience and need building, and she feels the need to show her that they can have this and still be ok. She sits up slightly, but Santana's lips follow hers as the Latina props herself up on her elbows. Their lips only part when Brittany shuffles back slightly to grant her hands access to Santana's jeans. She looks directly into Santana's eyes, which are now remarkably dark, as she undoes the button and fly to the Latina's jeans. She bites her lip, knowing how much it turns the Latina on, and receives the desired response as Santana licks her lips in anticipation. Brittany starts to tug down on the brunette's jeans, sliding them down as far as she can without completely sliding off of the Latina. Santana kicks them off the rest of the way as the blonde starts back up her body. She tugs on one of Brittany's belt loops impatiently to bring the blonde back to her faster.

Their lips crash together again and Santana sucks Brittany's tongue into her mouth with need. The Latina's hands move around the blonde to cup her ass cheeks through her jeans. Brittany's hands rest on Santana's neck, but start a trail down. They slide along the Latina's collarbones and down to the sides of her breasts again―a notably sensitive spot for the brunette. The blonde sticks to light brushes of her hands against the mounds, before trailing down further. As she almost reaches her destination, she abandons the use of her left hand so that she can lean her weight on her arm. She breaks their kiss just long enough for the Latina to look up into her eyes. Santana just nods encouragingly and Brittany slides her hand slightly beneath the band of the brunette's underwear before reuniting their lips and tongues.

She slides her fingers gently along the elastic line before fully dipping beneath the threshold. When Santana feels one of Brittany's fingers lightly graze her clit, she bucks up against her hand, causing the blonde to smile against her mouth. Santana's hands find their way to Brittany's breasts as the blonde runs her hand along the Latina's slick folds, slowly working her way in. Santana moans with need, and Brittany obliges as she starts to circle two fingers around the Latina's entry point. The blonde delivers a light bite to Santana's lower lip before dipping her fingers in and immediately feeling the radiating warmth envelop her. They both moan at the sensation.

Brittany starts a slow, steady rhythm and Santana starts to almost pant, getting worked up much faster than she had anticipated. The blonde moves her mouth to the Latina's pulse point, resuming gentle bites and licks along the smooth, sensitive skin as she speeds up the rhythm of her hand. Santana is getting close and growing ever more impatient. She starts to buck against the blonde's hand with more force, and when Brittany lightly grazes her clit, she can't help the moan that escapes her, "Mmm, Rach."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Santana's eyes snap open. Brittany's hand immediately stills, as does her mouth. She lifts her head to look at the Latina, the look in her eyes positively heartbreaking. Brittany rolls off of Santana and sits on the edge of the bed, facing the door.

"B, I'm sor―"

"Don't." The blonde says firmly as she reaches down to find her bra. She starts to put it back on.

Santana slides closer to the girl's retreating form. "B," she pleads as she reaches out a hand to touch the blonde's back, her heart breaking in tandem with the blonde's.

"I said fucking don't!" Brittany yells through tears as she stands up from the bed. It's the most force Santana has ever heard in the blonde's voice. She grabs her t-shirt from the floor and abruptly walks out of the room.

Santana falls back onto the bed in defeat. She cringes when she hears the front door slam shut, and again when she hears Brittany's car peel out of the driveway. She brings her hands up to her face, feeling like the worst person to ever exist. Every bit of sexual need that was in her just moments prior immediately left along with the blonde. _I'm a fucking monster._ She balls her fists and slams them down onto the bed in frustration. "I'm a fucking monster." She says aloud as she sits up on the bed, cross-legged, once again bringing her hands to her face.

She sits there like that for over 10 minutes, with her head cradled in her hands, getting about as close to tears as she's ever been. When she finally lifts her head again, she chances a glance at the clock, noticing that it's not even 8pm yet. She makes the decision to have a cold shower, but not before shooting a quick text to Quinn.

'I totally fucked up Q. So bad.' She hits send and heads to the shower, hoping that maybe she'll drown in the cold water.

15 minutes later she enters her room again, wrapped in a towel, feeling even shittier than she did before. She picks up her phone and sees that she has 7 texts from Quinn, each growing more concerned, wanting to know what happened. She doesn't respond, but starts to change.

Once dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, she makes her way downstairs. As soon as she settles onto the couch, a series of doorbell rings start. At first she figures she'll just ignore them, but they don't stop. After about a minute, she groans and heads to the door.

She opens it to find another blonde on the other side. Her posture immediately slumps and her head drops. She can't even bear to look at another human being right now.

The look of concern on Quinn's face is purely genuine. "What the fuck, S? You send me a text like that and then you ignore me? Are you ok?"

Santana doesn't answer, she just steps back so that the blonde can come in. She does and Santana closes the door and heads back into the living room, assuming that Quinn will follow. She does.

Quinn pulls off her jacket and settles into her spot on the couch from the previous night. "S, you're seriously scaring me. What happened?" she pleads.

Santana leans back, trying to sink as far into the couch as she can―hoping that it will swallow her whole. Quinn slides over and pulls the Latina into a hug, realizing that maybe that's all she needs right now. Santana actually feels a tear drop down her face for the first time in years. She thinks about it and it's probably the first tear she's shed since her father left five years prior. Quinn slides a reassuring hand up and down the Latina's back as the other one lightly combs through her wet hair.

The blonde sits silently with the Latina for over 5 minutes before saying anything at all. "It'll be ok. Whatever it is, we'll work it out," she coos softly, hoping her voice will steady the girl.

Santana leans back from Quinn's hold to look into the blonde's eyes. Quinn's not sure she's ever seen the brunette's eyes so red or so full of emotion. Even having no concrete idea of what's going on, she can feel a tug at her heart, knowing that whatever it is, it's bad.

Quinn gets up from the couch and exits the room, leaving a confused Santana behind, but the Latina is simply too numb to follow. The blonde eventually returns with a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of vodka and a shot glass in the other. Santana raises a questioning eyebrow at the blonde.

"I assumed you'd want something to drink, I just didn't know which this situation calls for." Quinn explains, shooting her eyes between the two options with a hesitant smile.

Santana doesn't react beyond reaching her hands out towards Quinn's left one. She takes the bottle and the shot glass from the blonde's hand, putting the glass down on the coffee table and cracking the seal on the vodka. She pours a shot and slides it across the length of the table to Quinn, who settles into her seat once more. The blonde raises an eyebrow and glances back up in time to see Santana take a healthy swig directly from the bottle.

Quinn sighs. She lifts the shot glass up in Santana's direction in silent cheers before she shoots back the liquid. It burns down her throat and she coughs lightly as it works its way down.

Santana smirks at the blonde's slight grimace, but immediately feels guilty and steels her expression once more. She takes another swig from the bottle, swallowing back the grimace that threatens to cross her own face. She leans across the table to retrieve the shot glass, filling it and handing to the blonde once more.

Quinn hesitantly takes the glass and this time sips at the liquid instead of taking the entire shot.

Santana watches as the blonde does this. "Oh, man the fuck up Q," she chides, taking another swig from the bottle, unable to fight the grimace that crosses her features.

Quinn just stares at Santana and takes another sip from the small glass. "I can't spend every night here getting hammered, you know."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Suit yourself..." she mumbles before taking another healthy swig, this time shaking her head at the foul taste.

Quinn can see from Santana's posture that the alcohol is starting to relax her slightly. She places the shot glass down on the table before reaching a hand out to the rest on the Latina's knee, "You can talk to me, you know. I won't tell anyone."

Santana looks up to see the sincerity in the hazel eyes before her and sighs heavily before speaking. "I'm pretty sure I broke B."

The blonde's face and posture immediately grow defensive as she almost retracts her hand. "What do you mean you 'broke B'?" she asks with an edge in her voice that Santana had been expecting.

Santana takes another swig from the bottle and decides to stare at it rather than Quinn as she speaks. "Brit came over after practice. She tried stuff, and I said no... at first." She chances a quick glance up at the blonde, who is now looking at her with blatant disapproval. "It-it's just so easy with B. She said that it's ok that I don't love her back, that we can just have sex and it won't mean anything..." she trails off, knowing what's coming.

Quinn removes her hand from the Latina's knee and uses it to smack the side of her head, "You should fucking know better than that!" She grabs the half-shot from the table and takes it back, slamming the glass pronouncedly back onto the table as she glares at Santana with a silent rage.

Santana barely reacts to the slap and doesn't look up. She knew that Quinn would feel for Brittany. She starts to think that calling Puck may have been a better idea, but immediately shakes the thought from her head. There's no way that situation would've ended in anything other than sex, and that's about the furthest thing from what Santana needs right now.

A silence spreads over the living room until Quinn clears her throat. "Fucking hell," she mumbles, running a hand through her hair. She reaches out and grabs the bottle from Santana, taking a healthy swig herself―nearly gagging at the taste as she chokes it down. With her eyes squeezed shut in a grimace, she blindly hands the bottle back to the Latina.

Santana takes the bottle and takes a swig herself before sighing lightly. "How do I fix this?" she asks in what Quinn is sure is the smallest voice she's ever heard come from the girl.

Quinn opens her eyes and stares straight at Santana's, which read remarkably sad. She takes a deep breath and sighs. "Ok. Is that all that happened? You guys had sex and it got weird after?" the blonde asks with a raised eyebrow.

Santana looks down at the bottle, having forgotten that she hadn't even told the blonde the worst part yet.

At Santana's body language, the blonde sighs. "Ok, what are you not telling me, then?"

Santana pauses to hazard another quick look up at the blonde before proceeding. "We didn't actually have sex... or, well, we didn't finish at least..." the Latina trails off.

Quinn screws her face in confusion, the situation seeming to make less sense as time goes on. "Ok... so what _happened_?"

"I called her Rachel," Santana mumbles at a volume she knows Quinn can't hear, almost as if she's testing the words out in her mouth.

"What?" the blonde inquires with a raised eyebrow.

Santana chugs a couple mouthfuls from the bottle, coughing the burning liquid down. She puts the bottle down on the table and clears her throat as she mentally prepares herself for the backlash. "I called her Rachel." She says it firmly this time.

Quinn's eyes widen and she slaps Santana's shoulder, hard.

Santana roughly grabs the blonde's wrist before she can retract her hand completely, staring coolly into her eyes. "Ok, enough with the fucking hitting!" she yells as she throws Quinn's hand back towards her lap.

The two sit in silence for what seems like forever before Quinn grabs the bottle of vodka from the table, pouring another shot before sealing it. Santana looks at her questioningly. The blonde hands the shot glass to the Latina and takes the bottle with her as she stands up. "This isn't something you get to drown out," she says firmly as she turns to walk towards the kitchen.

To Santana's surprise, within a minute the blonde comes back and settles on the couch once more. Santana stares at her questioningly. "I assumed you'd leave," she says softly. _Everyone leaves_.

Quinn sighs at the tone of the Latina's voice. "Look Santana," she pauses, thinking over what she wants to say. "I'll stay here. I'll listen, hang out, whatever it is you need me to do. But there are two things I _won't_ do." She waits for the Latina to look up at her. "One: I'm not gonna tell you what you did was ok, and I'm not gonna try to make you feel any better about it." Santana nods in understanding but Quinn doesn't continue, prompting the cheerleader to raise an eyebrow.

"Ok... what's the second thing?" she asks warily as she puts the still full shot glass down on the table, finding herself slightly taken aback by the sternness in the blonde's voice.

Quinn makes sure the Latina is looking at her again before she continues. "Two: I'm not sleeping with you."

Santana finds herself unable to stifle a laugh, and, though she feels guilty about it, she can't help but feel a little better already.

* * *

**Random fyi, the towing thing totally happened to me in highschool. I still have no idea why the lots were full, but our school did a lot of special event stuff, so... lamesauce.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: As a reward for your week-long patience, I bring you chapter 8 one day early―ie. I won't have time to publish tomorrow... ;)**

* * *

Quinn had left the previous night around 11 and returns at exactly 8:30 am to pick Santana up for school. Santana hears the horn honk in the driveway and rolls her eyes as she grabs her bag and heads out the door. It's possible that Quinn is the only person who would honk in lieu of actually ringing the doorbell.

The pair had spent the rest of the previous evening watching a horror movie and making small talk. Santana had found out that the blonde is at least partially open to a relationship with Puck, which makes her smile internally. Santana knows that Puck is a much better guy than people give him credit for. He may do stupid things, but his intentions always tend towards the good. Quinn is perfect for Puck because she'll balance out his stupidity and hopefully mould him into a better man. Santana thinks that Puck could be good for Quinn too because he'll take her out of her comfort zone and help her loosen up. For as cool as Santana was finding the blonde to be, _She's still a bit of a square_.

Santana opens the back door of the car first to toss in her bag, then hops into the passenger side seat, doing up her seatbelt before turning to the blonde with a kind smile. "Morning."

"Morning," Quinn greets in kind. "How'd you sleep?" the blonde inquires, making small talk as she pulls out of the driveway.

Santana sighs, guessing the bags under her eyes must be noticeable. "I got a couple hours in," she lies. As if to give herself away she yawns epically just after speaking.

Quinn chuckles, "Yeah, I can see that."

The remainder of the drive is spent in silence, with the radio in the background keeping them company. As they park, Santana sighs heavily, staring at the school with a look akin to fear on her face.

Quinn turns in her seat to face the girl, "Are you gonna be ok today?"

Santana looks over to the blonde. "I guess I'll have to be." She pauses. "This is gonna be a disaster isn't it?" she asks with a dropped expression.

Quinn considers just being flat out honest with the girl and telling her it certainly isn't going to be all sunshine and kittens, but decides to use a little more tact. "Well, I'll tell you one thing, glee is probably going to get interesting..." she trails off as she undoes her seatbelt, causing the Latina to raise a questioning eyebrow. "We better get going," Quinn suggests, opening her door and earning a groan from the Latina.

Santana grabs her bag, exits the car, and walks into the school in tandem with the blonde. As they enter the bustling hallway, Santana can see Rachel about halfway down its length at her locker. There mere sight of the diva makes her feel a lightness throughout her body. She just looks down as she smiles and shakes her head.

Quinn suddenly tugs on the sleeve of Santana's jacket, causing the Latina to look up at her. The blonde just points down the hall, where another blonde is quickly approaching a certain diva, slushie in hand.

Santana starts a dead sprint down the hall with Quinn jogging along behind her. The Latina quickly realizes that she's not going to make it in time to stop the angry blonde. Santana is still about 20 feet away as the scene starts to play out.

Brittany walks right up to Rachel and greets her with a kind "Hey" to get her attention. As soon as the smiling diva turns around, her expression morphs into one of horror as Brittany cocks her arm back and proceeds to toss the blue slushie directly onto the brunette.

Santana arrives just after the toss and grabs Brittany's cup-wielding wrist roughly, "What the fuck, B?" She turns towards Rachel to survey the damage, noting with surprise that the girl has far less slushie on her than she should. She turns back towards the blonde, who's looking down into her now empty cup miserably.

"I drank most of it on the way here," Brittany mumbles sadly as she tugs her wrist away from Santana's grasp and continues down the hallway.

Santana follows the blonde with her eyes, and when she catches a glimpse of Quinn, she motions for her to follow after the cheerleader. Quinn shoots an almost apologetic smile to both Rachel and Santana before taking off after the other blonde.

Santana turns her attention back to the brunette in front of her. "Oh my god Rachel, are you alright?" Though there isn't as much slush on the girl as she had expected, the top half of her outfit is still ruined.

Rachel stands still in shock, completely taken aback by the fact that she was just slushied by the last person she would have ever expected. "I don't have a change of clothes," she says almost robotically, eyes still glazed over.

Santana glances around them and notices a gawking crowd gathering. She steps in front of the diva and closes her locker for her, grabbing her bag and her hand before leading her down the hall towards the cheerios' locker room. As they enter the change room, Santana locks the door behind them and guides Rachel to take a seat on the bench, placing the girl's backpack as well as her own down next to her.

The Latina slides off her jacket, adding it to the bags on the floor, before popping her locker open to grab a clean change of clothes for the diva. She turns around with an apologetic look on her face as she tries to hand a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to the girl. Seeing the clothes enter her peripheral vision, Rachel just looks up at the cheerleader in total confusion and hurt. The look breaks Santana's heart. She places the clothes down on the bench next to the diva and gets down on one knee so that their faces are nearly level. She reaches back into her locker to grab a towel and proceeds to wipe the girl's face and arms.

The bell rings, giving Santana the prompt she needs to try to slightly cheer the diva up. "At least you don't have class right now," she says with a soft smile. Rachel's face washes over with concern and Santana finds she doesn't need to the girl to speak to know what she's thinking. She shakes her head, "Don't worry about me. Remember? I'm like the Stephen Hawking of Spanish," she winks, causing Rachel to smile lightly.

As Santana shifts her focus back to cleaning the girl, she finds herself growing frustrated and sighs. "We should really get you cleaned up properly; you know how sticky this stuff can get once it dries." Santana slightly grimaces as she realizes that she's probably done this to the poor girl before.

Rachel's eyes meet Santana's once more and the small girl just nods. Santana stands up and takes Rachel by the hand, leading her over to the sinks. She gently guides Rachel to stand so that her head is hovering just above the sink. She turns on the warm water, cupping handfuls and letting them run through the diva's hair. Once she's sure she's gotten the lion's share of the slushie out, she pulls Rachel back upright. She turns off the tap and starts to pat dry the girl's forehead and hair as well as she can with her towel. She places the towel down on the sink as she reaches back and pulls her own hair down. She gently sweeps Rachel's hair out of her face and walks around the girl, using her hair tie to put the diva's hair up into a ponytail.

When she comes back around to the front of the diva to do a visual check, she notices that there is still some residual slushie. She wets the towel under the tap and starts to wipe down the girl's face and arms once more. She stops, noticing that some of the slushie has made its way down the opening of Rachel's shirt. Santana clears her throat and Rachel finally looks up as the cheerleader gestures to the remaining bits of blue ice.

Rachel just looks down and starts to slowly unbutton her white button-down top. Santana watches as more and more skin starts to be exposed, but suddenly feels guilty for ogling a girl who was just victimized. She averts her stare for a few moments before turning to go get Rachel the change of clothes. She only makes it about half a step before she's stopped by Rachel's hand on her arm. When she turns back around, the diva has completely unbuttoned her shirt, leaving it hanging open over her shoulders. Santana's pupils dilate impossibly further as Rachel removes the shirt completely, essentially exposing herself to the Latina aside from still having her bra on.

Santana's mouth runs dry as she scans over the diva's exposed torso―her musculature more defined than the Latina had ever imagined. Suddenly she starts to feel like a creeper again and averts her eyes. Rachel reaches down and grabs the wrist of Santana's right hand, which is still holding the wet towel. She pulls the hand up and starts to wipe the sugary concoction off of her chest by way of moving Santana's hand. As Santana's eyes follow the movement of her own hand, she's not sure she's ever been so turned on in her life. Rachel continues to move their hands blindly, her stare fixed on the Latina's face. Rachel brings her other hand up to remove the towel from Santana's grip, letting it drop to the floor. She takes the Latina's hand in both of hers and presses it flat against her chest.

Santana's breath hitches as her hand makes contact with smooth skin, and her heart rate quickens as she feels the fast-pounding rhythm of Rachel's own heart. She looks up to Rachel's eyes for the first time and sees nothing but darkness. She licks her lips unconsciously as Rachel bites hers. Santana wants nothing more than to ravage Rachel right now, but she can't do it, not while the girl's so vulnerable. _At least not unless she makes the first move._

Rachel keeps her eyes on Santana's as she slides the Latina's hand down through her cleavage to her abs, and then around to her hip, the cheerleader's eyes following along the journey. She keeps hold with one of her hands and removes the other to reach out and grab Santana's left hand, resting it on her chest for a moment before taking it along the same path and towards her other hip. She pulls the hands further, to wrap around her, at the same time pulling the Latina flush against her body.

As Santana feels her body press against the diva's once again, and their eyes meet, she's not even entirely sure she's still breathing. Rachel relinquishes her hands, but Santana leaves them where the brunette wants them, on the small of her back. Rachel raises her hands up to the sides of Santana's face, and she gently pulls the taller girl down into a kiss, letting one hand drift down to rest on the Latina's neck, and the other to rest against her collarbone.

At first the kiss is tentative and slow, but it quickly deepens. Santana's completely convinced she's either hallucinating or daydreaming as she feels Rachel's tongue swipe along her lower lip. She moans lightly, inadvertently granting the diva the access she would've gladly given her anyway. As their tongues meet for the first time, both girls moan and Santana finds that she can't keep her hands still anymore. She starts sliding them along the diva's bare back, along the waistband of her skirt, around to her abs, and upwards towards the undersides of her breasts. Rachel's breath catches as she feels the slight contact with her bra. She breaks the kiss, gasping for air, resting her forehead on Santana's.

Santana's eyes finally open again, and she stares down into Rachel's almost-black eyes, noting that they both seem to be having trouble catching their breath. She moves her hands back down to rest on Rachel's hips. "We should probably stop," she suggests, going completely against what her body is telling her.

Rachel tries to compose herself before speaking. "We _should_, but I don't particularly _want_ to..." she trails off with a seductive smile across her lips.

Santana groans at both the diva's words and her expression. She clears her throat and clarifies, "We _should_ stop, because if we don't... then I won't be able to." She steps back slightly, but plants a firm kiss on Rachel's forehead and another tender one on her lips.

Rachel smiles into the kiss, but it morphs into a pout as soon as the Latina pulls away.

Santana can feel a rush of darkness pass through her eyes as she stares at Rachel's protruding lower lip. She licks her own lips and bites the side of her bottom one, feeling herself about to give in again. She shakes her head. "No. If we do this, we're gonna do this right."

Rachel smirks slightly, sliding her hands to rest on the Latina's collarbones, playing with the neck of her cheerios top. "Santana Lopez, are you saying you want to _date_ me?"

Santana looks down shyly, "Maybe..."

Rachel is beaming when Santana looks back up, and as their eyes meet, a light bulb suddenly goes off in the Latina's head.

She lifts one of her hands and takes one of Rachel's small hands into her own, twining their fingers together. She plants a kiss on the diva's hand before speaking. "What about if we try this 'date' thing after glee today?" she asks gently, her eyes never losing their hold on the brunette's.

Rachel's smile spreads impossibly further across her face as she jumps forward, throwing her arms around the Latina's neck and crushing her lips in another kiss.

As Rachel pulls back, Santana scrunches her face and raises an eyebrow. "So... just so we're clear... that's a 'yes', right?" she teases with a smile, garnering some light tickling of her ribs from the smaller girl. She manages to assuage the assault by pulling the brunette into a tight hug, resting her chin on top of the diva's head.

The two stand like this for a few minutes before Rachel breaks the silence. "I was scared you wouldn't want to do this," she says with a shaky voice against Santana's shoulder.

Santana pulls back from the embrace and slightly bends her knees so that her eyes are level with the diva's. "If I get my way, you won't ever have to be scared again." She leans in for a chaste kiss before adding, with a smirk, "And I _always_ get my way."

* * *

Santana has more pep in her step than usual as she saunters down the hall to English, a broad smile across her face. She practically bounces into the classroom and down into her seat, Quinn already in hers arching an eyebrow at the unusually happy girl.

"I take it things went well with _Rachel_," she says with an unimpressed scoff, slightly shaking her head, pulling the Latina out of her daze.

"Hm?" Santana responds lightly, turning her head to look at the blonde.

"You seem pretty damn happy for having just broken someone's heart," Quinn says, her tone unforgiving.

Santana's expression and heart drop as she thinks beyond the past hour, the harsh fall back into reality hitting her hard.

Quinn sighs and drops her head into her hands, feeling extremely uncomfortable with her own position in the whole situation. Both the Latina and the blonde are her good friends, and with all that's going on she feels trapped in the middle. She doesn't want to take sides, and she wants both of them to be happy; unfortunately, as time goes on, she's starting to realize that it's impossible. Brittany won't be happy unless she's with Santana, and Santana can't be happy with Brittany. Not to mention, it's starting to look more and more like Santana won't be happy unless she's with Rachel―the expression on her face when she came into the room being obvious proof of that―and Brittany certainly won't be happy seeing the Latina with someone else. She sighs again and turns her head back towards Santana.

"I'm sorry, that was harsh, but I spent first period basically talking B off of a ledge." Quinn says softly, shaking her head.

"And _I_ spent first period washing slushie off of Rachel," Santana counters. "If B wants to be mad at me, let her be mad at me. I have no problem with that. If she starts taking it out on Rachel, _then_ I have a problem."

"San, you're telling this to the wrong person," Quinn says exhaustedly with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Santana sighs as she looks at the blonde, reading her defeated posture. "I'm sorry you're in the middle, Q," she says softly as the bell rings, marking the beginning of class.

* * *

When the lunch bell rings, neither Santana nor Quinn make any immediate motions towards leaving. They both stay in their seats, books still open in front of them, even when their teacher takes off for his own lunch break. Santana chances a few glances up at the blonde, but the truth is she doesn't even know what to say to her. She says the only thing on her mind, "I'm serious Q, I'm sorry. This is a fucking disastrous situation, and... well... I just wish I could make it easier for everyone," she sighs in defeat.

Quinn sighs in response. "It's not entirely your fault, I guess." She pauses to think. "No, that's a lie. It actually _is_ entirely your fault." Santana's head drops to her hands. "But, you have to do what's gonna make you happy. You can't make yourself miserable to make others happy all the time." She turns and starts to pack her things, apparently having spoken her piece.

"Yeah," Santana starts with her head leaning on her hand, still making no motions towards leaving. "I just feel like shit 'cause I'm doing all the breaking and you're the one who's picking up the pieces."

Quinn lifts her head back up to be met by tired and apologetic eyes. She sighs once more. "Well, it was bound to happen eventually. Better sooner than later, I guess." She gives the Latina a weak smile as she stands and throws her bag over her shoulder. "I'll see you in glee," she says kindly as she turns and walks out of the room.

Santana runs her hands over her face. Truth be told, right now she wants nothing more than to take a nap. She slowly starts packing her things, a solid yawn hitting her as she finally stands up on shaky legs. She shakes her head, trying to clear the cobwebs out before leaving the room.

She ambles down the hallway at a relatively slow pace. She's only about 15 feet away from her locker when a hand grabs her arm and pulls her. The next thing she's aware of is that she's in a different room―the girls' washroom. Santana registers a flash of pain as her back slams against the door she was just pulled through. She can feel teeth dig into her bottom lip, a pair of hands working up the sides of her top, and a thigh strategically placed in between hers―pressing in a particularly sensitive spot. Santana releases an involuntary moan as her hands automatically latch onto the girl's hips before instinctively starting to drift towards her ass.

As her tired mind catches up to what's happening, she opens her eyes and shifts her hands to push the blonde cheerio away by her shoulders. "B, stop," she says weakly, eyes on the blue ones in front of her.

Brittany doesn't speak, but instead leans in to kiss the Latina again.

Santana once again pushes the girl away by her shoulders. "B, I'm serious." She says, a sense of finality in her voice this time.

Brittany takes a few steps back and stares at her feet for a couple minutes before looking up at Santana, the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. "Why don't you want me?" she asks in a voice so soft that the Latina can barely hear it; but when she does, she almost wants to cry too.

Santana sighs heavily. She doesn't have an answer for the blonde because she doesn't really know. Wanting Brittany would be the easiest thing―she's available, she's a social equal, and the sex is unmatched―but she can't make herself want the girl beyond anything physical. It perplexes her, but at the same time there's nothing she can do about it. The pair continue to stand awkwardly about 5 feet apart, Santana still leaning on the door and Brittany standing between the sinks and the stalls.

Santana sighs and slides down the door so that she's sitting cross-legged and leaning back against it. "B, come over here," she says softly, patting the ground in front of her. The blonde does as instructed and walks over to take a seat facing the Latina. Santana takes both of the blonde's hands into her own. "I'm sorry," she starts, making sure that Brittany's eyes are on hers. "Last night shouldn't have happened―at all. It wasn't fair to you."

Brittany's face scrunches up, "S, I'm the one who tried to have sex with you."

"I know B, but you have feelings. It's understandable you'd try something. Also, I'm fucking hot, so duh," she adds playfully, trying to lighten the mood slightly. "I should've stopped it. It's unfair to make you think I'm feeling something that I'm not." She explains, running her thumbs across the backs of the blonde's hands.

Brittany drops her head to look at their hands. "But you're 'feeling something' for Rachel..." she trails off.

Santana's hands still and she feels the air rush out of her body as Brittany looks up with tear-rimmed eyes once again. She releases one of the blonde's hands and reaches up to wipe the girl's bottom lids with the pad of her thumb. She sighs and looks down at their hands. "I don't know. _Something_? Yes; but love? No."

Suddenly Santana feels a pushing at her back―someone's trying to come into the washroom. "Fuck off and go find another one!" she yells through the door, and the pushing stops. At the commotion, Brittany cracks a small smile. Seeing it makes Santana smile, too, but she steels her expression again before she speaks.

"B," she waits for the blonde to look at her. "You can't throw slushies at other people because you're mad at me..." She wonders if she's pushing too far with the next part. "You shouldn't have done that to Rachel."

This time the blonde just sighs and nods lightly, "I know." She looks down at their hands and repositions them so that their fingers are intertwined. "So, this means we can't have sex anymore, doesn't it..." she says more so than asks, continuing to stare down.

Santana puts on a sympathetic smile as she speaks, "No, B. No more sex." The blonde looks up with sad eyes, and Santana tugs her hands and gestures with her head for Brittany to come sit next to her, leaning against the door as well. When Brittany settles next to her, Santana throws an arm around the blonde's shoulders and Brittany leans her head onto the Latina's shoulder. "We'll be ok B," she assures the girl as she reaches out her free hand to grab one of Brittany's and link their pinkies. "We're still best friends. Forever."

"Forever?" the blonde verifies, softly.

"Forever." Santana says firmly.

* * *

By the time Santana finally makes it to the back hall, lunch is already more than half over. She pauses just outside the choir room door, her head swimming with thoughts. Though her and Brittany seem to have reached an understanding, or at least an armistice of sorts, Santana still finds herself feeling entirely guilty. She takes a deep breath and lets it out as a long sigh before opening the door and slipping in quietly without knocking.

Hearing the door click shut, Rachel looks up from the piano with the widest smile Santana has ever seen. She shoots the girl a hesitant half-smile in return. Rachel pops up from the bench and skips over to the Latina, now dressed in her own skirt and one of Santana's work-out tees. The diva grabs Santana by the hand and drags her back towards the piano. Once they reach the piano bench, Rachel spins around and lifts onto her tippy toes to kiss the Latina. Santana turns her cheek, and Rachel pulls back dejectedly.

"I'm sorry," Santana says plainly, keeping her head to the side and her gaze elsewhere.

Rachel's brow is dropped as she stares at the side of the Latina's face discriminatingly, wondering what's changed since the morning. She sits back onto the piano bench, her back to the piano, now staring up a seemingly absent Santana. Their hands still joined, Rachel tugs the Latina's, trying to get her to take a seat on the bench next to her.

Santana lets her bag slide down to the ground before she does turn to take a seat on the bench, figuring it'd be easier to sit next to the diva than have to face her. Rachel lifts their still joined hands and starts to draw patterns on the cheerleader's palm.

Santana pulls her hand away abruptly, Rachel's eyes following the hand's hasty retreat with a sad expression.

"Sorry, I'm like hella ticklish," the Latina blushes, her head down.

Rachel just nods and smiles lightly as she reaches a hand out and brushes some stray hairs out of the Latina's face, continuing by lightly brushing her fingers down the length of her hair. "You never wear your hair down, really... why?"

Santana raises an eyebrow and turns her head slightly towards the diva. "You never wear your hair up, really," she counters playfully, a small smile playing across her lips. Rachel smiles back and leans her head onto Santana's shoulder, and as she does the Latina finally relaxes. She leans her head on top of the diva's, and the two stay like that for a while before anyone speaks.

"I wear my hair up because it's easier―especially when I have cheerios," Santana explains, her soft voice vibrating through Rachel's head. "I shower so often that blow drying would take up half of my day. It's just easier to put it up and forget about it."

Rachel smiles as she can sense the Latina opening up again. She swallows heavily before asking what she's wanted to ask all morning, bracing herself for the worst. "So, um, and I don't know if you know but I was just curious, but..." she trails off nervously before clearing her throat silently. "Why did Brittany slushie me?"

To Rachel's surprise, Santana does not jump up and act defensive like she was expecting, rather the Latina just sighs heavily. "I don't know," she lies, but thinks the better of it. "Well, I _do_ know..." she amends as she lifts her head. She waits for Rachel to look at her before continuing. "I'm not sure I'm ready to tell you yet, though," she says, staring thoughtfully at the brunette for a few moments.

Rachel looks away as she starts to blush, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the cheerleader's extended gaze. "Ok," she says quietly, re-linking her hand with the Latina's before settling her head back onto her shoulder.

Santana sighs in contentment and rests her head back on the diva's, eyes on their joined hands. She's not sure how long they sit there like that, just relaxing, but the next thing she knows the warning bell is ringing. Neither of them make a move to leave.

"We should probably get out of here. The afternoon class is going to be coming in soon," Rachel suggests half-heartedly, in a tired voice.

Santana yawns before responding. "Yeah, that's true," she replies, Rachel's tiredness mirrored in her voice. "We didn't practice..."

Rachel chuckles lightly. "Well, someone was late..." she trails off in a playful tone.

Santana rolls her eyes and raises their hands to place a kiss on the back of Rachel's before relinquishing it and lifting her head. Rachel takes it as a cue to lift her head as well. She turns her head to face the cheerleader, who is looking back at her. Santana closes the small gap between them, brushing their lips together before moving to stand. Rachel reaches a hand out to grab Santana's top and pull her back, but the door opens and she retracts her hand.

Santana tosses her bag over her shoulder and turns back to the diva. "So, I'll see you in glee?" she smiles.

Rachel nods with a broad smile as she stands, "Of course."

* * *

For Santana, the afternoon seems to drag on forever. The lack of sleep was certainly catching up with her as she yawned her way through her afternoon classes, even nodding out for a couple minutes during last period. When the final bell rings, Santana has no idea how she's going to make it through both glee and her 'date' with Rachel. _Hopefully Rachel will think napping is a valid date activity..._

When Santana finally arrives in the music room, she surveys her seating options: Brittany is in her normal seat in the back, Rachel in hers at the front, and Quinn is sitting off on the far side of the front row. Santana shoots genuine smiles to both Brittany and Rachel, but decides to sit beside Quinn―the blonde ally being the neutral choice.

She collapses into her chair exhaustedly, earning a raised eyebrow from the blonde. "You're still alive... somewhat," she adds with a chuckle as the Latina yawns.

Santana just nods before leaning her head onto Quinn's shoulder and letting her eyes drift shut. Her attention is only roused when Mr. Schue claps at the front of the classroom, introducing the first pair to perform today: Puck and Finn.

The boys start in on a typically cocky rendition of Justin Timberlake's 'SexyBack,' which initially draws only an eye roll and a yawn from the Latina, but as the performance continues Santana suddenly becomes very much awake. She notices that Finn is making an unnecessary amount of eye contact with Rachel, and she feels jealousy rising in her veins as the diva blushes under his gaze. _What the fuck._

When the pair finish, to a round of applause from the group―including a golf clap from Santana―, Mr. Schue returns to the front of the class. "Ok, girls? Who's next?"

"We are." Santana says firmly as she stands. Rachel looks up with a raised brow at the Latina's insistent tone, but stands to join her at the front of the room.

"Great, guys!" Mr. Schue says encouragingly as he moves to take a seat.

Rachel looks over at Santana, who has steeled her expression, and suddenly grows incredibly nervous. She clears her throat lightly before speaking. "Uh, yes, so, though the song we chose peaked at number 2 on the 'Hot 100', Mr. Schue failed to indicate a specific chart. This song did spend weeks atop the Country charts, so we're not technically breaking the rules..." she trails off.

Santana just rolls her eyes and turns back to the band, gesturing for them to start. As the music does start, Santana looks up at the bleachers and catches Brittany's eyes, which are remarkably sad. The Latina raises an eyebrow, but as she follows the blonde's gaze over to Rachel she figures it out. _She's wearing my shirt._

Rachel clears her throat quietly and starts in on the first verse.

"I can feel the magic floating in the air  
Being with you gets me that way  
I watch the sunlight dance across your face and I've  
Never been this swept away.

"All my thoughts just seem to settle on the breeze  
When I'm lying wrapped up in your arms  
The whole world just fades away  
The only thing I hear  
Is the beating of your heart."

Santana can feel her body heating up again as she notices Finn's expression as he watches the diva sing. She finally snaps to when she realizes that the chorus is starting and she needs to join in with the harmony.

"'Cause I can feel you breathe  
It's washing over me  
Suddenly I'm melting into you  
There's nothing left to prove  
Baby all we need is just to be  
Caught up in the touch  
The slow and steady rush  
Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be  
I can feel you breathe.

"Just breathe."

Santana can't shake the jealousy rising with the way Finn continues to look at Rachel like a piece of meat. _Fuck Frankenteen._ She turns and locks eyes with Rachel, taking a deep breath before singing her verse.

"In a way I know my heart is waking up  
As all the walls come tumbling down  
I'm closer than I've ever felt before  
And I know  
And you know  
There's no need for words right now."

Santana's eyes are still on Rachel's, and both girls are smiling. Though the pair are still standing a few feet apart, and only a few feet in front of a crowd, they are seemingly lost in the song and unaware of their audience. Santana takes another breath and launches into the chorus this time with Rachel harmonizing.

Rachel clears her throat and turns her head out toward the audience, causing the Latina to do the same, as they sing the bridge.

"Caught up in the touch  
The slow and steady rush  
Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be

"I can feel you breathe  
Just breathe."

Santana reaches out and grabs Rachel's hand, completely disregarding the rest of the group, pulling the diva's eyes to hers as she voices the last lines.

"I can feel the magic floating in the air  
Being with you gets me that way."

Rachel's eyes are on fire as they stay locked on Santana's for a brief moment before she turns to face the applauding club. As the Latina slips back into reality, she also turns towards the group, noticing a bevy of confused expressions and two or three particularly angry ones. Though she relishes the look of confused anger on Finn's face, she could do without the rage seething from the two blondes in the room. She blushes and looks down as she makes her way quietly back to her seat. She had been so focused on staking her claim on Rachel to Finn that she had completely neglected the fact that Brittany is still in the room.

As she sits back down next to Quinn, the blonde gives her a sharp elbow in the ribs. Santana grimaces, but knows it's not worth retaliating.

Mr. Schue returns to the front of the class and clears his throat before speaking. "Alright," he coughs out, slightly awkwardly. "Well done, girls. And now our final performance, from Quinn and Brittany!" he gestures to the two girls.

The two blondes head to the front of the class, Brittany stopping in front of the piano and Quinn, curiously, continuing to the classroom door. She leans out of the class for a minute before coming back and gesturing to the percussionists to start in on the beat. The two blondes start in, and Santana shrinks in her seat as she feels their glares.

"Uh huh, this my shit  
All the girls stomp your feet like this."

Quinn fixes her gaze on Puck as she launches into the chorus.

"A few times I've been around that track  
So it's not just gonna happen like that  
'Cause I ain't no hollaback girl  
I ain't no hollaback girl."

Brittany and Quinn launch into some complex choreography―obviously Brit's doing―as Quinn starts into the first verse, seeming to sing right at Santana.

"I heard that you were talking shit  
And you didn't think that I would hear it  
People hear you talking like that, getting everybody fired up  
So I'm ready to attack, gonna lead the pack  
Gonna get a touchdown, gonna take you out  
That's right, put your pom-poms down, getting everybody fired up."

As the pair launch into the chorus again, a small section of the WMHS marching band starts filing into the room and joins in on both the instrumental and the choreography.

Brittany stares directly at Santana as she starts singing, suggestively running her hands over parts of herself that Santana will probably never be seeing or having again.

"Oooh, this my shit, this my shit  
Oooh, this my shit, this my shit  
Oooh, this my shit, this my shit  
Oooh, this my shit, this my shit."

Brittany bounces over to the other side of the front row, seeming to stare right into Rachel as she sings the second verse.

"So that's right dude, meet me at the bleachers  
No principals, no student-teachers  
Both of us want to be the winner, but there can only be one  
So I'm gonna fight, gonna give it my all  
Gonna make you fall, gonna sock it to you  
That's right, I'm the last one standing, another one bites the dust."

As Brittany dances away into more choreography, Rachel shoots a questioning glare down to Santana's end of the row. Santana sinks even further into her seat, wishing the plastic and metal contraption would just completely envelop her. She doesn't pay much attention to the rest of the number, though she knows when it ends by the round of applause surrounding her and the very vocal "Wow!" that escapes Mr. Schuester when he returns to the front of the class.

Santana also notices when an extra smug Quinn slides back into her seat and elbows the Latina once more, "How'd you like that one, huh?"

Santana doesn't respond.

Glee lets out shortly after, but Santana doesn't even think about leaving her seat until both blondes have exited the room. She glances over and Rachel is still in her seat, too. They both stay seated until they are the only ones left in the room.

Rachel glances over to the Latina. "So..." she starts softly. "Brittany's not really my biggest fan, is she?"

Santana returns the stare for a moment before looking down, "No, not really, I suppose."

Rachel stands and walks over to take Quinn's now empty seat, reaching over to place a hand on Santana's knee, her other one brushing through the Latina's hair. She takes an audible breath before speaking, "Were you two... together?"

Santana doesn't look up, but shakes her head gently. "Not really," she leaves it there.

"Not really?" Rachel inquires with a raised eyebrow.

Santana looks up and meets Rachel's eyes, the sight making her momentarily forget what they were talking about. She stutters a little as she speaks, "Uh, um, w-what?"

Rachel moves her hands to take Santana's right hand within hers. She stares down at them as she speaks, "You said you and Brittany weren't _really_ together... what does that mean?" Rachel has a fair idea of what it means, but she finds herself needing to know for sure.

Santana sighs, also letting her eyes drift to their hands. "We were together _physically_," Santana looks up and meets Rachel's eyes, which read almost vacant, "But never anything beyond that." The Latina starts to shift uncomfortably. For the first time since they've been hanging out, she really can't read the diva's expression and it's making her increasingly nervous.

Rachel is dumbstruck. She had already known. She didn't really want confirmation, but she had to ask anyway or it would've bothered her to no end. She stares blankly through the Latina as she tries to centre on some semblance of a thought.

Santana, sensing the girl's insecurity, turns on her chair to face the diva completely. She pulls her hand from Rachel's and places it on the diva's shoulder, the other one on her cheek, running her thumb across the skin. "Hey," she coos softly. "We _were_ together. Now we're not," she clarifies.

Rachel's eyes seem to come back to life at the Latina's words, but Santana can still see a high level of hesitance in them.

Santana reaches down to take one of Rachel's hands, lifting it and pressing it flat against her chest. "You feel that?" she asks, knowing that her heart rate has already increased just at the contact. Rachel's eyes widen and she nods slightly. Santana makes sure that the small brunette is actually looking into her eyes before she speaks again. "That's because of _you_, not because of her."

Some of the hesitance exits the brown orbs and Santana can actually see a bit of happiness intrude as Rachel outwardly smiles. Santana smiles in return as she lifts the diva's hand from her chest, bringing it up to place a kiss on her knuckles. Rachel's eyes light up and a blush creeps up her neck and cheeks.

"So," Santana starts. "You think you're still up for this 'date' thing?" she asks with a raised eyebrow and a kind smile. Rachel nods emphatically and Santana's smile spreads even further. "Good."

* * *

Rachel shifts the car into park and looks over to Santana in the passenger side seat, "You know, this isn't exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to try going on a 'date'."

"What? You don't like my choice of location?" Santana asks incredulously as she climbs out of the car.

Rachel gets out of the car herself. "I don't know Santana, when I think of romantic settings my mind drifts more to candles, and soft music, and maybe even some flowers..." she trails off.

Santana takes both of Rachel's hands into her own as they meet at the front of the car, bringing them up to place soft kisses on their backs. "Are you saying I'm not romantic?" she asks in mock hurt, a pout playing across her features.

"Well, I really wouldn't know, would I?" the diva responds with her brow raised, glancing over at the barren grey building in front of them. "This isn't exactly an amazing first impression, though..." she says playfully, a smile tugging at the sides of her mouth.

Santana rolls her eyes and leans in to give Rachel a chaste kiss before releasing one of her hands and leading the diva into the main office of the Lima Parking Authority's impound lot.

Once they're inside, Rachel glances at the series of lines to different windows, each one numbered. "We're going to be here forever..." she mumbles loud enough for the Latina to hear.

Santana chuckles lightly, "Yup, that's why I brought a friend." She smiles brightly at the diva who responds by sticking out her tongue. "Don't tempt me," she says seriously, letting one of her hands drift slightly under the WMHS cheerleading t-shirt that Rachel is wearing and running it along the smooth skin. "We're in public, after all," she says, barely above a whisper, as she leans in close to the diva's ear.

Rachel's breath hitches before she jumps back nervously, causing Santana to genuinely laugh and drawing stares from the people around them. Rachel's face washes over a pale red as her eyes dart around. "Santana, people are staring," she warns.

Santana rolls her eyes, "You're supposed to _love_ the spotlight, Miss Broadway." She winks before turning to face the other lines in the building. "Hey everyone!" she says loudly, drawing the attention of most of the annoyed patrons. Rachel pokes the girl in the side, silently begging her to stop. Santana just throws her arm around the diva, using her free hand to point at her, "This here is Rachel Berry. She's gonna be a big star on Broadway, so get your autographs and pictures now, while you can!"

Rachel's hands move to cover her face in complete mortification as Santana just laughs like she's never laughed before. Rachel shrugs off the Latina's arm and starts toward the door, only to be stopped by Santana gently grasping her hand. She turns around to see a genuinely apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," Santana says sincerely, still fighting back a bit of laughter. "I had no idea you get embarrassed so easily." She drops her head, actually feeling a little bad about the scene she had just made.

Rachel steps back into line with the Latina. "You're lucky I like you," she says firmly, but a playful look quickly washes over her face. "I'm going to get you back so badly."

Santana just raises her eyebrow, "Oh really?" Rachel nods. "I look forward to it," she winks, drawing an eye roll from the smaller brunette.

* * *

It's already past 8 when Santana finally drives her car out of the gated lock up. She doesn't drive far, instead parking right next to Rachel's car in the now near-empty lot. She turns off the ignition and gets out to greet the diva, who's leaning against the side of her own car, shivering in the cool breeze. Santana walks up to Rachel, pulling the hood of the diva's jacket up before running her hands along its arms, trying to warm the small girl up.

Rachel smiles at the contact, but then twists her face inquisitively. "I still don't understand how it could possibly cost over $400 to get your car back."

"Yeah..." Santana starts with a bit of a guilty smirk. "There may or may not have been some unpaid parking and speeding tickets in there too..."

Rachel drops her head slightly and shakes it with a smile. "And you wonder why you were towed." The pair share a smile as they sink into silence, Rachel averting her eyes once more as the Latina continues rubbing her arms. "So..." she starts shyly, chancing a glance back up at the Latina. "What now?"

"Come over for dinner," Santana bluts out without a second thought, looking up at the diva hesitantly.

Rachel just smiles further before leaning up to kiss the cheerleader, "Of course."

* * *

The pair arrive at Santana's house in their respective cars just over half an hour later. They enjoy a simple dinner of a fresh salad, Santana adding some chicken into her own serving, before heading into the living room to choose a movie.

"Wow. You pretty much only have horror movies, huh?" Rachel inquires as she visually scans the selection of DVDs.

"Horror's my favourite genre," Santana replies simply, walking up behind the small brunette to wrap her arms around her.

Rachel relaxes into the Latina's embrace. "I get scared really easily," she almost whispers. Santana just chuckles against the back of her neck, causing her to visibly shiver. "Do you have anything else?"

Santana moves her chin to rest on the diva's shoulder. "I have some comedies and stuff in my room," she says lightly, placing a kiss on the smaller girl's neck before reaching down to take her hand. She spins Rachel in her arms leaving them standing face to face, her hands locked around the diva's waist. She leans down and brushes their lips together before leaning back with a questioning eyebrow.

Rachel just smiles, "I like the sound of that better."

The two head up to the Latina's bedroom, Santana leaving the diva alone to peruse her options while she changes out of her cheerios uniform. Santana returns after a few moments, now dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, to find Rachel already settled on the bed and the previews of a DVD running on the screen.

Rachel is sitting up, leaning against the headboard with her legs extended. Santana throws her uniform into the hamper before hopping onto the bed. She lies down, settling her head on Rachel's thigh and resting her hand on the diva's knee. The diva automatically moves her hands to start running through the Latina's hair.

Santana sighs contentedly at the motion, "So, what did you choose?"

Rachel chuckles slightly, mentally predicting the Latina's reaction. "Um, I chose 'The Little Mermaid', actually. It's the closest thing to a musical you seem to have..." the diva explains.

Santana rolls her eyes and laughs lightly against the diva's thigh, "Of course you did."

A comfortable silence falls between the pair as the previews roll, Rachel still playing with the Latina's hair. Once the menu screen pops up, Santana lifts her head and props herself up to lean across the brunette and grab the remote from the nightstand. She hands it off to Rachel, who hits play.

"Are you going to Puck's party tomorrow?" Santana asks through a yawn as she settles back onto the diva's lap.

Rachel cocks an eyebrow despite the fact Santana can't see it. "Puck's having a party?"

"Yup," the Latina replies simply.

"What for?" the diva inquires.

"What do you mean?" Santana asks, her eyebrow raised this time.

"Well, there's usually a purpose behind a party―celebrating something, a special occasion or something like that...?" the diva trails off.

Santana laughs against the diva's thigh once more. "Um, I guess it's celebrating the two week anniversary of his last party..."

"Puck had a party two weeks ago?"

Santana cringes slightly, realizing the diva probably wasn't even told about the after party. "Um, yeah... after Sectionals." She starts to draw lazy patterns on the diva's knee with her finger, hoping to allay any feelings of dejection.

"Oh." Rachel's hands still, obvious hurt in her voice.

"All Puck's parties are just excuses for everyone to get drunk," Santana explains, trying to convince the girl in not so many words that the party was nothing special. "Any reason is a valid one." The Latina yawns again.

Silence overtakes the pair for a couple of minutes again before Rachel resumes playing with the Latina's hair. "Yes," she says plainly.

"Hm?" Santana inquires tiredly.

"I'll come to the party," Rachel replies. "If you're going, that is."

Santana smiles as her eyes drift closed. "Good."

Within half an hour Santana is fast asleep on the diva's thigh. When Rachel notices, she turns off the movie and gently removes the Latina from her leg, placing a pillow under her head instead. She tucks the girl in as best she can before walking over to Santana's desk and scribbling a note. After leaning down to place a light kiss on the cheerleader's forehead, she leaves the folded paper on the nightstand and turns out the lights before making a quiet exit.

* * *

**The song Rachel and Santana sing is 'Breathe' by Faith Hill.  
The song Brittany and Quinn sing is 'Hollaback Girl' by Gwen Stefani.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Oooh, last chapter got mixed reviews... I love it! If you're at all curious about my motivation behind writing Quinn and Brittany the way I have the past couple chapters, I've included a little footnote about where my thought process lies ;) (**It _does_ address some specific concerns that were raised in the comments, but I'm not trying to attack anyone's opinions, just to tell you the way I saw things as I was writing them**.)**

**Beyond that, I guess all that's really left to say is: PARTY PARTY PARTY.**

* * *

When Santana wakes, it's already Saturday morning. She rolls onto her back and stretches out with a yawn, feeling surprisingly refreshed. She turns her head to glance at the clock but notices there's a folded piece of paper blocking her view. She sits up and shuffles over to sit on the edge of the bed, removing the piece of paper to look at the time. 7:55 am. She does the mental math and figures she probably slept close to 10 hours―by far the longest she's slept in the recent past.

After she reaches her arms up in another stretch, she finally brings them back down to read the paper she's holding in her hand:

'Santana―

'I didn't want to risk waking you up so I went home to sleep. I'd like to think your falling asleep doesn't reflect on the quality of my company, or that of our "date" for that matter. (On that note, I will be planning our next outing.)' Santana chuckles lightly. 'Give me a call today if you still want to go to the party. As I said, if you're in, so am I. :)

'(heart) Rachel *'

Santana smiles at the little heart that the diva drew, and stifles a laugh at the star drawn following her name. She's taken aback by how adorable she finds the gesture of leaving a note on the nightstand rather than just sending a text. She folds the note back up and places it on its original spot on the nightstand before standing up and heading towards the shower.

_It's gonna be a good day,_ she smiles to herself.

* * *

Santana spends a good portion of the day running errands: grocery shopping, going on a booze run with Puck, and doing laundry. It's close to 5pm when she gets around to calling Rachel, considering inviting her over for dinner and to get ready for the night's party. She scrolls through her contacts and hits the number before placing the phone to her ear. It rings 4 unsuccessful times before it goes to voicemail, making the Latina frown slightly.

'Hello, you've reached Rachel Barbra Berry. I'm unable to take your call right now, so please leave a detailed message―including your name, number, and the time of your call―and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you and have a wonderful day!'

Santana smiles and shakes her head slightly at the wordy message, finding it to be so typically Rachel. "Hey Rach, it's me. Uh, yeah, I was calling about the party. Give me a call if you want to come over earlier to get ready or whatever... if not, then I'll probably be getting there around 9, so... I'll see you then? Um, yeah... ok... that's it. Bye." She hits end as quick as humanly possible, raising a hand to her forehead, feeling completely lame about the voicemail. _Way to be smooth, Lopez._

She sighs and heads to the kitchen to make some dinner.

* * *

After spending almost an hour fretting over what to wear and spending an unusually long amount of time primping in front of the mirror, Santana finally heads downstairs shortly after 9. She opted to wear the tightest pair of dark-washed skinny jeans she owns, knowing how well they shape her legs and ass, as well as a tighter-fitting band tee―a Led Zeppelin one with a faded black wash. As far as hair and makeup are concerned, she decided to leave her hair down in soft curls, since Rachel seemed to like that, and apply a soft smoky eye and simple lipgloss.

As she heads for the door, she finds herself staring into the shoe closet for an extended period of time as well. _This really shouldn't be that hard._ She tries on a few pairs, checking herself out in the full-length hallway mirror, before finally just settling on a pair of black high-top Chuck Taylors. She throws on a fitted black leather jacket before finally exiting the house and making the short walk over to the Puckerman house.

She looks down at her watch as she approaches the house, noticing that it's already 9:30. _Oh well,_ she sighs. _Fashionably late, right?_

She climbs up the dark front steps and walks in through the unlocked door, immediately hit by the pounding bass of the music filling the house. Luckily, the houses in the area were quite well insulated in terms of noise, so there wasn't much concern about complaints or, by extension, cops. As soon as she enters, she can see that the house is already quite crowded, noting a few familiar faces down the hall in the kitchen. Puck peeks his head into the hallway and waves at the Latina before disappearing back into the kitchen for a moment. He emerges with an open bottle of vodka and a shot glass in one of his hands and paces over.

"San!" he exclaims as he reaches the girl and wraps her up in a firm hug. When he pulls away, Santana starts to unzip her jacket but Puck uses a hand to stop her, shaking his head. "First things first," he starts, pausing to fill the glass with vodka. He looks back up with a smile, holding the shot out to the Latina. "Entry fee."

Santana scoffs lightly, but takes the drink offered and shoots it back before handing the empty glass back to the boy. "Good?" she asks, looking up to him.

"For now, yes," he smirks. Santana resumes taking off her jacket and hands it to Puck, who hands her the bottle and glass in exchange. "You can take those back to the kitchen, beer's in the fridge," he explains as he heads down the hall to put the jacket in his room with the others.

Santana does as instructed and heads down the main hall and into the kitchen. She can see Matt and Mike milling around in the far corner, talking shop with some other football players. They shoot a wave in her direction and she smiles and nods in return as she places the bottle and glass down on the countertop. She looks around, noting there aren't really any other people she knows in the kitchen. She grabs a beer from the fridge and hops up to take a seat on the counter with her feet dangling down towards the floor.

She only takes a couple sips of her beer before she sees a smiling blonde enter the room. Quinn walks over to the counter and hops up to take a seat next to the Latina. "Hey S," she greets kindly.

Santana takes another sip before turning to the blonde, "Hey Q. Good night so far?"

"Sure, why not," the blonde says flippantly, taking a swig from the bottle in her own hand. "So, interesting thing happened today," she trails off enthusiastically.

Santana raises a questioning eyebrow, "Oh yeah?"

"Yup," the blonde chuckles. "I got a phone call from Rachel-fucking-Berry."

Santana swallows her mouthful and turns her head to face the blonde, her eyebrow now threatening to escape her face by way of her forehead. "_What?_"

"Yeah, she was freaking out that she had nothing to wear," Quinn replies nonchalantly, as if it would explain everything.

Santana finds herself feeling like she's in the twilight zone as she speaks. "...so she called _you_?" she draws out, lazily pointing a finger towards the blonde.

Quinn turns her head to face the Latina, looking at her pointedly. "S, I don't exactly think she has a rolodex of friends to flip through..." she trails off, kicking her dangling feet.

Santana rolls her eyes, but also slightly nods. Though she's not thrilled that the blonde said it aloud, she knows there's some truth to her words. "Ok," she says warily, still trying to make it make sense in her head. "So... did you help her?"

"Yeah," Quinn chuckles slightly as she responds and shakes her head in disbelief. "Surprisingly enough, I spent my Saturday at the mall with the hobbit."

"Wow," Santana voices, her brow still raised. As she processes the rest of the blonde's sentence her brow drops. "Don't call her that," she pleads softly, turning to stare into hazel eyes.

Quinn just smirks and shakes her head, seeing Santana's feelings for the diva coming out. "Alright, I'll try..." she says playfully.

Santana nods lightly with a slight smile. "Thanks, Q. You know, for helping her out or whatever."

Quinn pushes herself off of the counter and back to her feet, turning to face the Latina. "Oh, don't thank me now... thank me when you see her," the blonde winks before turning around and walking away, lifting her beer up above her head in silent cheers.

Santana just shakes her head, her eyebrow having returned to the top of her face.

Shortly after the blonde leaves, Puck ambles into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge before hopping up and occupying Quinn's previous spot.

He takes a healthy swig from his bottle before speaking. "So, just so you know, both your ladies are here already." Santana just turns to him with a questioning look. "Rachel and B," he elaborates.

Santana sighs heavily, a plethora of potentially awkward situations running through her mind. She shakes them away. "Oh yeah?" she replies disinterestedly.

"You know," the boy drawls. "If _I_ were in your situation, I'd just get the two to jello-wrestle this shit out." He winks at the Latina, earning himself a light punch in the kidney. "Hey! I'm just saying, rather than let things get awkward you could totally take advantage of this. Not to mention, with the way Rachel's dressed tonight... holy shit."

Santana rolls her eyes and pushes Puck's shoulder with her own, but her mind starts to wander. Between Quinn and Puck's comments about Rachel's attire, she finds herself actually growing nervous about seeing the diva. She drains the rest of her beer before hopping off the counter and grabbing another bottle from the fridge. She starts to exit the kitchen with a wave to the boy, setting off to find the songstress.

She only makes it to the doorway between the kitchen and the living room before she does catch sight of the girl in question, in the middle of the living room, dancing up a storm with Mercedes and Kurt to the Lady Gaga song playing on the stereo. Santana stops dead in her tracks and her jaw drops as she ogles the brunette from behind―dressed in dark jeans that are tight as sin―having trouble tearing her stare away from the girl's ass. Her surprise and feeling of heat only intensify when the diva spins around, wearing a skin-tight and incredibly revealing black top that shows off her ample cleavage as she bounces to the beat, her hair down in curls and bouncing around her shoulders, her skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Santana mentally steels herself and clamps her mouth shut, if only to keep from drooling.

She feels an arm come to rest around her shoulders, but doesn't shift her focus. "You're welcome," a soft voice says from beside her with a chuckle before slapping her shoulder lightly and walking away.

At the moment Santana is seriously considering proposing to Quinn.

A hand comes to rest on her opposite shoulder. "Right?" she hears Puck's voice say. "So," he gets a little quieter. "Are you tapping that yet? 'Cause if not, I'm seriously considering trying to run up in it..." he trails off with a smirk and a shake of his head, staring intently at the dancing diva himself.

Santana finally turns away from the diva to look at Puck, punching him square in the other kidney. He wails and grimaces slightly and Santana just smirks―at least now he'd have matching bruises. She stalks across the living room, placing her beer down on a bookshelf before grabbing Rachel's hand and dragging her along down the side hallway to Puck's room. She pushes the door open and tugs Rachel in by the hand before closing the door behind them.

"Santana, wha―?" is all Rachel can get out before Santana's lips are on hers in a crushing kiss, her hands roaming up the diva's sides, along her collarbones, and to the back of her neck in an attempt to pull the girl impossibly closer.

Rachel moans and Santana deepens the kiss, letting their tongues wrestle until she literally has to break the embrace due to lack of oxygen. As she pulls away slightly, resting her forehead on the diva's, she's sure that her eyes must be as dark as the night sky. Santana lets her hands drift back down Rachel's sides to her belt loops, hooking her index fingers through them, but keeps her stare focused on the diva's face until the girl's eyes finally open and their eyes meet.

"I'm sorry," Santana says huskily, still fighting to catch her breath. "I just had to do that... you look _so_ fucking hot right now," she explains, licking her lips as she shoots a glance down the brunette's body, catching a heart-stopping angle on the girl's cleavage.

Rachel colours like a tomato at the Latina's words, looking down with a shy smile. Santana just lifts her forehead from the diva's and leans forward to kiss the top of her head before swooping back down to capture her lips again in a much more tender gesture this time around.

When she pulls back, Rachel is wearing a smile the width of her face. "Well, 'hello' to you too," the diva says with a smirk and a raise of her eyebrows when she finally speaks.

Santana smiles, leaning back in to brush her lips against the diva's once more. "Hi," she breathes out against the full lips. She takes a step back, relinquishing her hold on the diva, but trails a hand down one of Rachel's forearms to link their hands. "So, I heard there's some sort of party going on out there..." she gestures with her head. "You at all interested in going?"

Rachel lifts her free hand to her chin, looking up in mock-consideration. She looks back down into the Latina's eyes, "Honestly? Now I'm not so sure," she says softly with a shy smile.

Santana's smile spreads and she pulls the diva back in for a tight hug. She wraps her arms possessively around the small brunette's shoulders, resting her chin on top of Rachel's head. Rachel's arms snake around Santana's waist, her wrists linked at the cheerleader's back. They remain in the embrace for a long while before Santana speaks again, without moving.

"We should probably go out there, there's a pretty good chance that people might start wondering where we are..." she pulls her head slightly back, looking down at the diva uncertainly.

Rachel smiles against the Latina's neck before lifting her head, "Yes, I suppose so."

"Ok then, drink?" Santana smiles.

The diva smiles and nods as she steps back, separating their bodies but taking the Latina's hands in her own. "What should we do about us?" she asks simply, drawing a questioning look from the cheerleader. She laughs slightly. "I mean out there," she gestures with her eyes towards the door. "I mean, do we want the whole school knowing that we're... whatever we are?"

"Dating," Santana responds reflexively before giving thought to Rachel's question. She honestly hadn't thought about it. On the one hand she doesn't ever want to have to let go of the diva. On the other hand, there are others that factor into the equation. For one, there's Brittany, who is somewhere in the house and already visibly pissed at the situation―if the previous day was any indication. Similarly there's Quinn, who would probably be equally pissed if the Latina were to blatantly disregard the blonde cheerleader's feelings. Santana sighs. On the flipside, there's Puck to consider, who would definitely ensure that everyone in the house knew what was going on through his gawking and inappropriate comments.

Santana clears her throat slightly before speaking again. "I guess it's better if we keep it under wraps for now..." Rachel nods, having expected as much, but her face still drops a bit. "But, we have all night," the Latina smiles. "We can always find ways to sneak off for a couple minutes, right?" she adds reassuringly. The diva smiles.

"Ok," she says bashfully as she rolls up onto her toes to kiss the Latina once more, only relinquishing the girl's hands as she settles back down.

The two make their way back out into the hall, through the crowded living room, and into the kitchen. Santana decides to abandon her previous beer, assuming it'd probably been pilfered by some underclassman without their own booze anyway. She leans into the fridge as Rachel takes a spot leaning on the counter next to her. "So, what do you drink?" she asks without looking up as she grabs herself a beer.

"Um, I don't really..." Rachel trails off, blushing as the Latina looks up at her with a raised eyebrow.

Santana chuckles lightly, "Ok then." She grabs a carton of orange juice before closing the fridge. The diva shoots her a questioning glare, but she proceeds to grab a rocks glass from the cupboard and the bottle of vodka from the far side of the counter. She pours a conservative amount of liquor into the glass and fills the remainder with juice before turning and holding it out to the diva. "Screwdriver," she smiles. "Should go down easy enough," she winks.

Rachel rolls her eyes but takes the glass, shooting a discerning look at the Latina who pops open her beer.

"What?" Santana asks, thoroughly confused, as she takes a sip from her bottle.

"I'm not an animal," she says flatly, causing Santana's brow to furrow. "A straw, perhaps?" she smiles innocently.

This time it's Santana who rolls her eyes before leaning past the diva into a different cupboard to grab a package of straws. "Take your pick, Miss Fancy-pants," she chuckles.

Rachel shoots the cheerleader an unimpressed look as she takes a straw from the package and places in her drink, stirring the liquid absently. She looks at the drink suspiciously for a moment before finally taking a sip, then she raises the drink in front of her face to look at it again.

"You would've seen if I roofied it." Santana says flatly.

The diva rolls her eyes once more. "It's not that bad," she says with a bit of surprise in her voice and a smile, taking another sip.

Santana smiles as she turns her head to survey their surroundings, taking in who's milling around in the kitchen. She suddenly sees and locks eyes with Brittany at the far end of the room, standing with the football guys. The blonde turns her attention towards Mike and starts very heavily flirting with him, shooting occasional glances back to the Latina, who is still watching.

"Hello?" Rachel breaks her daze.

She looks down with a blush, taking a much needed swig from her bottle. "Uh, sorry, what?"

Rachel shakes her head, "I was just asking, what―"

"SHOTS!" Puck cuts the girl off as he enters the kitchen with Quinn in tow, earning a series of cheers from throughout the room. He pours a series of shots from the bottle of Jägermeister he's holding and hands them out to most of the football players, Brittany, Quinn, Santana, and Rachel, making sure to pour one for himself as well. "Alright, ready?" Nods happen around the room before everyone, save Rachel, lifts their glasses into the air, launching into a familiar refrain:

"Here's to you and here's to me, and best of friends we'll always be, but if by chance we disagree, then FUCK YOU and here's to me!"

The group cheers once more before downing their shots in unison. Rachel follows suit, grimacing heavily and slightly coughing at her first taste of pure, unadulterated hard liquor. Santana laughs slightly at the small brunette before leaning close to her ear. "Don't worry, it's supposed to taste like shit," she smiles before gesturing for the girl to take a sip of her less-alcoholic beverage. The diva does as instructed, taking long sips, clearly trying to kill the burning in her mouth and throat.

Santana looks up to see both Quinn and Brittany laughing at the brunette's reaction too. "Oh my god, Berry, you should've seen your face," Quinn says through a laugh, pointing at the diva.

Puck throws an arm around the girl, "Ignore them Berry, you're one of us now!" He looks down with a friendly smile as he squeezes her shoulder in reassurance.

Rachel just blushes and smiles softly as she looks over at Santana, who is mirroring her smile.

* * *

About an hour later the girls have settled into the sitting room, sitting on the couch and chatting with some of the other gleeks. Surrounding the coffee table are Rachel, Santana, and Mercedes on the couch; Kurt sitting on the arm of the couch next to Mercedes; Matt and Mike, both seated on the ground opposite the couch; as well as Artie and Tina, Artie having parked his chair at one end of the table with Tina sitting on his lap.

"You are such a liar," Matt says sceptically.

"Seriously, I can do magic!" Santana replies, causing the other gleeks to continue to stare at her questioningly―Rachel shooting a particularly discriminating glance at the Latina from just behind her right shoulder. "Puck!" she yells out to the kitchen. "Bring the vodka and a shot glass!"

Puck walks over with the requested items and a raised brow.

Santana hands her beer to a confused Rachel and takes the bottle and glass from the boy before she speaks again. "Ok, this is how this is gonna work," she starts as she pours a shot. "First, Kurt, I need to borrow your hat," she explains with a point, drawing a wary look from the small boy.

Kurt hesitates slightly before removing the houndstooth fedora from his head. He has an eyebrow raised as he hands the hat to the Latina, "I hope you don't plan on ruining it, it probably costs more than your car."

Santana rolls her eyes as she takes possession of the hat. "Calm down, powder puff; I'm not gonna hurt it." She slides the shot glass to the centre of the table and proceeds to place the hat on top of it, hiding the shot from view. She rubs her hands together thoughtfully, realizing she's forgetting something. She turns right and grabs the straw from Rachel's drink, smiling and winking her silent thanks.

She licks the excess drink from the straw before she clears her throat. "Ok, so basically what I'm going to do here is I'm going to drink _that_ shot―" she points at the hat to clarify. "―_without_ touching the hat."

Matt looks between the Latina and the hat a few times before scoffing, "You're insane. There is no possible way you could do it." He leans back from the table and crosses his arms in disbelief.

"I'm dead serious." Santana deadpans. The boy's expression doesn't change. "I'll tell you what, we'll make it interesting. If I do it, you owe me a beer; if I _can't_ do it, I'll give you an entire 6-pack. How's that for a deal?" Matt just nods in agreement and Puck smirks in the background, knowing the Latina is about to win her bet.

Santana waves her arms out a little to loosen her muscles before leaning down towards the table. She raises the straw to her lips, and reaches it out towards the bottom of the hat, trying to get as close as she can without actually touching the hat with the straw. Once she's in the right position, she starts sucking through the straw for a few long moments before sitting back upright with a smug look across her features. "I told you," she says simply.

Everyone around the table is looking at the Latina like she's positively insane, but it's Matt who speaks once again. "There's no fucking way..." he says incredulously.

Santana just arches an eyebrow, "Seriously. Take a look for yourself," she gestures a hand towards the hat.

Matt looks at the Latina discerningly before picking up the hat, as instructed.

As soon as the hat is off of the table, Santana lunges forward―grabbing the still-full shot and drinking it back before placing the glass back down. "Didn't touch the hat, did I?" the Latina winks.

Matt groans and looks up at the ceiling in defeat as the other gleeks cheer and laugh. Puck just shakes his head with a chuckle as he grabs the bottle from the table and takes off. Santana follows Puck's movement to the doorway and catches sight of Brittany, leaning against the doorframe with a sad smile on her face. Santana sighs and sinks back into the couch, dropping the straw back into Rachel's drink before grabbing her beer and taking a healthy swig.

She sits silently, lost in thought, as a series of animated conversations covering everything from the latest fashion trends to WMHS football to popular music take place around her. There's only one part of the conversation she actually pays attention to―the part where Mike mentions that Finn is M.I.A. because he's at his grandparents', which makes her smile internally. Otherwise, all she can think about is the sad smile that was gracing a certain blonde's lips just minutes prior. When she finishes her beer she finally stands up, glancing down at Rachel and shaking her empty bottle. "Gonna go for a refill," she says simply before leaving the room.

She does head into the kitchen, but only to toss out her empty before starting her search for a certain blonde cheerleader. She's sure she's already searched the entire house before she heads back into the kitchen and chances a glance out to the backyard, noticing someone lying in the hammock strung between two large hickory trees. She heads back to Puck's room to grab her jacket before heading out through the sliding glass door and into the backyard.

The blonde gazes over at the sound of the door and sees the Latina coming. "The stars are really pretty tonight," she says plainly as she looks back up at the sky.

As the brunette approaches, Brittany shifts so that she's sitting up with her feet on the ground and Santana can sit beside her. She does, and they both recline back onto the woven material. Santana shoves her hands into her pockets in a weak attempt to fight off at least some of the cold night air. _Fucking hell, it's cold._

"Wow," the Latina remarks when she finally looks up at the stars herself. The sky is completely clear―perhaps explaining how incredibly cold the night is―and the stars are really shining bright. Santana loses herself in the sight―she has no idea for how long―until Brittany speaks.

"Why Rachel?" she asks softly.

Santana looks over to the blonde, who is still looking up at the sky, and sighs. "I don't know," she answers without elaboration, though if she's honest with herself, she's starting to figure it out. The fact is that Rachel can challenge her intellectually in a way that the blonde just never could, and the Latina is slowly learning that that is a trait she needs in a partner. Unfortunately, dynamite sex could never completely replace the need for mental stimulation.

"I like when you do magic." She speaks softly again, making Santana slightly smile.

"I could always do magic for you, B," she replies softly, reaching an arm around the blonde's shoulders. They sit still for a couple minutes before she speaks again. "I want us to be ok, B," she speaks in an incredibly soft voice, pausing as a plane passes overhead. "How can I make this ok?"

Brittany sighs and turns her head to face the Latina, but when their eyes meet she quickly turns away again. "I don't know," she says with a sigh.

"We'll figure it out. Me and you, together," Santana promises softly.

The blonde turns to face her again, and this time she smiles. She looks back up at the sky before speaking. "I think I'm gonna go home."

Santana arches an eyebrow but doesn't speak, a shiver passing through her body as a particularly cold wind sweeps over the backyard.

Brittany shifts her momentum forward to ground her feet again. "You're freezing. You should go inside. Rachel's probably wondering where you are," she explains with a sad smile.

The Latina sits up as well, taking a hand out of her pocket to brush some hair from the blonde's face. "We'll be ok," she promises as she slides her hand down the girl's jacket and links her pinkie with one of the blonde's, looking deeply into her eyes. "Trust me. I'm a fucking genius, after all," she adds with a smirk.

Brittany smiles once more before moving to stand, Santana following suit. Once the pair are both up on their feet, Santana tugs on the girl's pinkie, pulling her into a solid hug. Brittany leans on her shoulder, relaxing into the tight embrace.

Santana turns her head slightly to speak into the girl's ear. "Don't know what I'd ever do without you, from the beginning to the end, you've always been here right beside me, so I'll call you my best friend." She says, echoing the song she had sung for Brittany less than a week prior. She can feel the blonde smile against her neck. "Through the good times and the bad ones, whether I lose or if I win, I know one thing that never changes, and that's you as my best friend." She leans back from the embrace and smiles at the blonde, "Always, B."

The slight redness across Brittany's cheeks from the cold deepens considerably at the Latina's words. She lifts her head to look at the brunette, "Always, S."

Santana ushers Brittany back into the house by the hand, following closely behind and feeling instantly better as the warmth of the house washes over her body. The blonde turns back towards her and gives her another quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before heading to the front of the house to leave. Santana sighs and shakes her head as she starts to pull off her jacket, but as she looks across the kitchen, she sees both Quinn and Rachel looking at her, sporting matching crossed arms and raised eyebrows. She groans in frustration, looking up at the ceiling. _Of fucking course they're right there._

She drapes her coat over her arm and cautiously walks towards the obviously angry duo. Quinn just scoffs and walks away. "Hey," Santana greets softly, stopping a few feet short of where the diva is standing.

Rachel uncrosses her arms to pick up her drink from the countertop and take a long sip before speaking. "So, that was a really long 'refill'," she says antagonistically.

Santana looks down for a moment to collect her thoughts. "Rachel, there are just some things you need to understand..." she trails off, looking up at the diva who still looks entirely unimpressed with the situation.

She's about to speak again when a happily inebriated Puck appears at her side, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "Shots!" he says simply, raising the bottle of vodka in his other hand. Santana's surprised to see Rachel nodding emphatically at the prospect of another shot. She mentally shrugs and decides to also partake. Puck pours three shots, handing one to each of the ladies before picking up his own and raising it in cheers. "Here's to Berry, a fucking amazingly _sexy_ representative of the Jew community!" he exclaims, raking his eyes over the diva's body.

Santana raises a disapproving eyebrow at the boy. Rachel just smirks at the praise, clinking her small glass with Puck's before the pair take their shots, Santana following shortly thereafter.

"Seriously though," Puck continues, throwing his arm around Rachel's shoulders. "Who the fuck knew that _this_..." he gestures down the diva's body. "Was what was hiding under all those skirts and sweaters, am I right?" he asks, looking up at the Latina for confirmation.

Santana shoots Puck a murderous glare, wholly considering giving the boy another bruise―one where the sun doesn't shine.

"Well thank you, Noah," Rachel breaks the silence. "It's nice to feel _appreciated_ sometimes." She says pointedly, her eyes burning holes through Santana's.

Santana just sighs in frustration, putting her glass down on the counter pronouncedly before heading to Puck's bedroom to put her coat away again. As she's placing her jacket down on the bed, she hears the door behind her click shut. She spins around to see Rachel standing there with the same stern expression on her face.

"So what exactly is it that I 'need to understand'?" the diva asks mockingly, her weight leaned to one side and a hand on her hip.

Santana just drops to sit on the floor with her back leaning against the bed, running her hands over her face, wondering how she managed to fuck things up _again_. Santana looks up at Rachel with a sad expression and the diva's face falters―a flash of concern crossing her features. She shakes her head, seemingly upset at her own inability to stay mad, as she walks over to take a seat beside the Latina.

They sit there for a couple minutes in silence, Rachel taking occasional sips from her drink, before Santana finally speaks. "I have to talk to Brittany, Rachel," she says exhaustedly, bringing her knees up to rest her arms on them. "She's been my best friend almost my entire life, I can't just cut her off completely because she wants me in a way she can't have me. I can't just _not_ have her in my life 'cause you don't like it." She looks up at the diva with pure emotion playing across her eyes.

Rachel sighs and looks down at her hands, fiddling with the straw in her now empty glass, a betraying feeling of guilt infiltrating her heart. "I know," she says softly as she looks back up at the Latina. "But," she pauses, looking down again. "I can't just ignore the fact that she _does_ want something with you, and I can't ignore the possibility that she'll _try_ something and I won't be there to stop it."

Santana raises her brow in disbelief, her anger instinctively rising. "Do you really give me that little credit? Do you seriously think I'd let something happen _now_ when I've been breaking my fucking back to make this work with you?" she asks incredulously, moving to stand.

Rachel grabs her by the wrist and pulls her back down, causing the Latina to reluctantly settle back into her seat, refusing to look at the diva. They sit there in silence for a short while again before Rachel sighs.

"No," she says plainly, causing the Latina to finally look back up at her with a questioning expression. She sighs once more before speaking. "No, I don't expect you to stop being friends with her. No, I don't think that you'd actually do anything with her." She pauses, wondering if she should truly voice her concerns. "But, that being said, it's not like we've established any sort of ground rules with respect to our burgeoning relationship. As far as I know, you could go off and sleep with whoever you want and not consider it cheating at all since, as you said yourself, we're just 'dating'..." she concludes softly.

Santana's expression falls. "Seriously?" she asks, all the anger having vacated her voice. "That's what you're worried about?" She leans over and takes Rachel's hand in her own, raising it to her mouth to place a kiss on it before relinquishing it. When the diva simply looks away, she shifts, raising herself to her knees and moving to straddle the girl's outstretched legs, causing the diva to look up at her in surprise. She leans back onto her heels and rests her hands on her knees before taking a deep breath and looking deeply into Rachel's chocolate eyes. "Rachel Berry," she pauses, more so for dramatic effect than anything else. "Will you be my official, exclusive, awesomely sexy girlfriend?" she asks with a shy smile.

Rachel chuckles slightly at the Latina's actual words, but her face lights up at the sentiment. She reaches her hands out and grabs Santana by the shirt roughly, pulling her in for a kiss. Santana braces her arms on the bed on either side of the diva's head as she melts into the contact. The kiss heats up quickly, tongues entering the fray and battling for dominance. They only break apart when the need for air becomes too great.

Santana leans back onto her heels once more with a raised eyebrow, her breath still slightly ragged. "So," she breathes out. "Just so we're clear..."

"That's a 'yes'," Rachel cuts her off with a smirk before pulling her back in for another kiss. They both melt into the embrace and lightly explore each other's mouths, taking their time this time around, knowing that any doubts have quite literally gone out of the bedroom window.

"Oh. My. God." A voice breaks the moment. Santana immediately rolls right off of Rachel, resuming her previous seat, and looks up to see both Kurt and Mercedes standing in the doorway, staring in complete shock. Kurt raises a hand over his eyes and Santana does the same. "Ok, this is definitely the right time to be going home since I am _clearly_ having alcohol-induced hallucinations," he trails off, keeping his hand over his eyes.

Mercedes tries to speak, but ends up just opening and closing her mouth a few times before allowing it to settle back into a gape.

Both Santana and Rachel look to opposite sides of the room in absolute embarrassment.

Kurt lifts his hand slightly, to look over at Mercedes and shove her shoulder lightly.

"Right," Mercedes starts, slightly shaky in her speech. "Um, yes, so, we just came in here to get our jackets..." she trails off.

Santana keeps one hand covering her face as she looks down and gestures blindly with her other at the bed. "They're somewhere there," she says, trying to keep the embarrassment from seeping into her voice. She hears some rustling behind her on the bed for a few minutes before silence spreads over the room again. She looks over to Rachel, who still has her hands over her own face, and then up to the door to see the pair retreating through the doorway.

"Seriously, though," Kurt says, spinning in the doorway to face the girls again. Rachel looks up as well. "I feel like I need a mental cleanse now, because _this_―" he punctuates by pointing between the two girls, "―is making the kind of sense that is _not_." He shakes his head once again in shock before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

Both girls release a long sigh in tandem, turning to face each other with uncertain expressions and chuckling awkwardly at the flustered feeling that they seem to be sharing.

"Um," Rachel starts lamely, looking down.

"Yeah," Santana adds turning to stare at the door once more.

"I think we just came out," Rachel ventures, replacing her hands on her face.

"Seems so," Santana replies absently, still half in her own head at the moment.

Rachel starts laughing uncontrollably, pulling Santana from her thoughts to turn and stare at the girl with a raised brow. The diva struggles to speak through her laughter, "Well, at least we don't have to hide it anymore."

Santana slightly laughs herself, shaking her head. "Well, I suppose that _is_ a bright side," she says, looking at Rachel with a kind smile.

The two settle into a comfortable silence again, just staring at one another.

"You wore your hair down," Rachel says after a while, reaching out a hand and running it absently through the Latina's dark locks.

"You like?" she asks with a smirk, one of her hands drifting around the diva's lower back.

"Very much," Rachel smiles, moving to straddle Santana, whose hands instinctively move to rest on her thighs before drifting up to her hips. She leans in to kiss the cheerleader softly once more, her hands wrapping around the Latina's neck loosely. When she leans back, she has a concerned expression across her face. "I just realized something very disturbing."

Santana's face drops. "What is it?" she asks, a very palpable sense of apprehension lacing her voice.

Rachel can't fight the smile that spreads across her features as she speaks. "Well, I was so flustered by your appreciation of my beauty earlier that I failed to return the sentiment." Santana rolls her eyes, but Rachel just leans down to her ear. "It would be remiss of me not to mention how fucking sexy you look tonight, and how I spent half the night staring at your ass," she coos huskily.

Santana senses a familiar feeling migrating between her legs, and feels a flush spread across her face at the diva's surprisingly off-colour speech. When Rachel leans back again, her eyes are the blackest of black, and Santana finds herself simply unable to form words.

Rachel grins, and speaks with a southern drawl. "Oh my," she starts, bringing a hand to her heart. "Not only have I made Santana Lopez blush, but I do believe I have rendered her speechless." Her grin spreads into a full-on smile.

Santana, still finding no words, trails one of her hands to Rachel's stomach, dipping her index finger beneath the waistband of the diva's jeans and pulling her in for a more passionate kiss. _This is what it's supposed to be like_, she thinks to herself as she falls into Rachel once again, wondering if she's found what has always been lacking in her life.

Rachel pulls away too soon and Santana pouts, causing the diva to laugh slightly. "For such a hard ass, you can be so incredibly adorable sometimes," she says lightly, causing the Latina to frown but also blush, giving herself away. Rachel grows slightly serious, "But, we should probably go back out there, lest we get caught in a compromising position _again_."

Santana smirks, "I thought we agreed we didn't have to hide it anymore..." She raises her eyebrows a few times suggestively.

Rachel chuckles slightly again, running her hands along the Latina's neck and shoulders. "Well, that doesn't mean I want everyone to _see_ what we do. I think it's enough that they know," she smiles kindly.

Santana rolls her eyes and groans, but she can't argue Rachel's point. She's not particularly fond of the idea of putting on a show for everyone either. She nods, and the diva takes the intiative and stands, offering her hand to Santana.

Once they're both standing, Rachel starts towards the door but Santana reaches out and grabs a belt loop, pulling her back. The diva's back comes to rest against her front, and she runs her hands around Rachel's body as she starts placing kisses along her neck.

"I do believe this would be a particularly compromising situation to be caught in," Rachel trails off, her voice slightly shaky with the sensations running through her body from the Latina's touch.

Santana runs her hands back around the diva and down to massage her ass. "Just for the record, I spent the _entire_ night staring at yours," she says gruffly, delivering a healthy squeeze to the girl's rear, causing Rachel to lightly squeak and jump forward. Santana just smirks at the reaction and steps around the diva to open the door. She turns back to look at the flustered girl, "Well? Shall we?" she gestures an arm towards the hallway.

Rachel shoots her a cold glare, but it's easily betrayed by her lust-filled eyes. She shakes her head incredulously, leaning down to grab her empty glass before heading out.

* * *

As the party starts to wind down, the night starting to stretch into the not-so-wee hours of the morning, there are only five people left in the house―and all on the couch. Santana is squished next to Matt, Puck, and Quinn, with Rachel sitting on her lap. She has an arm hooked around the front of the diva's waist and a hand running along her back on the exposed skin between her top and her jeans. Rachel's arm is hooked around the Latina's neck, her hand absently playing with the girl's hair while her other supports her current drink. Puck, on the opposite side of the couch, has an arm draped around Quinn, who is leaning onto his shoulder, close to the point of passing out. Matt finds himself sitting between the two pairs and feeling entirely awkward.

Suddenly Matt stands and releases a deep sigh. "Alright guys, I'm gonna get going. No one needs a fifth wheel hanging around," he smiles, turning around to face the group on the couch.

"Aww, little Matty's upset he's not getting any nookie tonight, huh?" Puck jibes with a smirk, earning a slap on the chest from the sleepy blonde on his shoulder.

"No worries dude, just go home and rub one out in the shower." Santana joins in with a chuckle, earning a hearty laugh from Puck and two girls glaring at her.

"Gross." Rachel says lightly.

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Take it easy guys," Matt says with a laugh, fist-bumping with both Puck and Santana before taking off.

Quinn and Puck start to banter a little bit amongst themselves, and as Santana fully registers the exchange that just took place, she turns her attention back to the diva on her lap. She shoots a questioning stare and speaks in a volume she's sure only the diva can hear. "Wait, _what_'s gross?" Rachel just looks away with a blush. Santana's brow drops along with her voice, "Rachel, have you never masturbated?"

"Santana!" Rachel chides at a volume that draws the attention of the other two couch occupants temporarily. "Don't be inappropriate," she adds softly with a glare.

Santana's eyes widen as she processes this new information. She doesn't speak until she's sure the couple across the couch have gone back to their own conversation. "So, wait a minute," she starts softly, lifting her hands up in confusion. "Weren't you the one who came to celibacy club all like 'women want sex too'?"

Rachel's blush spreads further as she shifts uncomfortably in the Latina's lap. "Well, yeah..." she trails off.

Santana just stares blankly at the girl until Puck draws her attention.

"Santana, you can vouch for me on this shit," he starts, nudging her shoulder with his beer bottle. "As tragic as Matt's situation is, it's _never_ been _my_ situation." He ends, pointing at his own chest with the bottle.

Santana's eyes widen as she wonders how drunk the boy must be to actually be having this conversation, and with Quinn no less. She wraps her arms back around Rachel's waist before speaking. "Um, _what_?" she asks, trying to shoot Puck a look that would let him know it's time to stop talking.

Puck has a slight slur in his voice as he elaborates, "Going home alone! If there's one thing everyone knows without a doubt, it's that the Puckster always brings home the prize." Quinn stiffens noticeably as the boy continues to speak.

Santana pleads with her eyes for the boy to stop, but he doesn't seem to notice at all.

"Like, come on. I've probably banged 90% of the female population at McKinley..." he brags proudly. "Including two thirds of the chicks in this room!" he adds with a laugh at his sudden realization.

Quinn finally can't take anymore. She stands up abruptly and turns to face the dwindling couch population. "So, that's my cue to leave." Puck reaches a hand out towards the blonde, but Quinn steps back out of his reach. "Hope _you two_ have a good night," she says pointedly to Rachel and Santana before simply leaving the room without giving a second thought to the boy.

The Latina and diva exchange worrisome glances as the blonde departs.

Puck stares after the blonde for a moment, taking a swig from his bottle before shifting to face the two remaining couch occupants. "Man, bitches are fucking crazy sometimes, right?" he scoffs, looking at Santana for support. The Latina just shakes her head slowly, eyes wide, once again trying to get the boy to just shut up.

"Maybe it's time for bed, Noah," Rachel suggests gently, leaning her head on top of Santana's and taking another sip of her drink.

Puck pastes a smug look on his face and raises an eyebrow. "You two _are_ coming with me, right?" he asks with dead seriousness. Rachel's eyes bulge and Santana just scoffs. "Seriously though, I'm just trying to make a point, alright? I mean, come on, I'm a total fucking baller and everyone knows it. I get more ass than toilet seats."

Santana rolls her eyes, growing more than a little tired of The Puck Show. "Oh please," she sighs.

Puck just smirks. "I got _yours_ earlier this week, didn't I?" he states proudly, pursing his lips in a kiss then winking cockily.

Santana's face drops and Rachel lifts her head as she shifts uncomfortably on the Latina's lap. She starts to stand, causing Santana to break the temporary silence. "Rach," she pleads, but the diva just removes her hands from around her waist.

"Don't bother," the diva replies softly, standing fully. She puts her drink down on the table before turning towards Puck, "Thank you, Noah, for having me over. It was an enlightening experience." With that she spins on her heel and exits the room.

Santana shoots a death glare to the boy on the opposite end of the couch. "Thanks a fucking lot Puckwad. Couldn't just kill the night for yourself, could you?" she groans as she stands from the couch herself.

Puck just scoffs and turns his attention back to his beer.

Santana heads out into the hallway, searching for the diva. She grabs her jacket from Puck's bedroom before going to check outside―the girl certainly couldn't have gotten very far. She shivers as she steps into the cool morning air, walking to the front of the deck and leaning against the wooden railing as she gazes up and down the street, trying to find the diva. She sighs deeply, realizing the girl is nowhere in sight. It's only as she spins to go back in that she catches sight of a petite figure sitting in the dark on the far end of the deck.

She takes a few hesitant steps, managing to kick a table as she squints to see in the dark. "Rachel?"

The figure doesn't respond, but Santana can tell as she continues to approach that it is, in fact, the diva.

"What are you doing out here? You're gonna freeze," she says with concern as she sits on the bench-swing next to the girl, placing a hesitant hand on the shoulder of her jacket.

Rachel just sighs, "I'm waiting for a cab." It's said simply and Santana nods.

She takes a deep breath and slides her hand across the girl's shoulders so that her arm is over her. The diva instinctively relaxes into her embrace. "Rach..." Santana starts, but trails off, not knowing what to say.

"Santana, I'm far too tired and impatient to have this conversation right now," the diva responds exhaustedly.

Santana just sighs, reaching her other hand around the diva's front and pulling her into a tight sideways hug. She'd never forgive herself if the girl got sick because of something she did. The pair sits in silence for about 5 minutes before a car with a light on its roof finally pulls into the driveway.

Rachel stands up and out of Santana's embrace, but the Latina grabs hold of her hand before she can completely retreat. "We'll talk tomorrow?" she ventures with a soft expression on her face that she's not even sure the diva can see in the darkness.

Rachel doesn't turn back, but doesn't pull away either. She simply drops her head and sighs. "We'll talk on Monday," she says firmly, and Santana takes it as a cue to relinquish her hold on the diva's hand. She just watches as the brunette walks down the front steps and climbs into the cab, her heart dropping further with each step the girl takes away from her.

_Shit._

_

* * *

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**General high school party formula = (booze x emotions)^teenage hormones  
****Super revealing chapter: you guys learn the cheers I do with my friends _and_ my fav bar trick. ;)  
****And again, the lyrics referenced by Santana are from the song 'Best Friend' by Brandy.**

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Motivation behind Q&B (feel free to skip if you don't care...)

**Quinn:  
**What I see when I look at the Quintana relationship (on Glee, specifically) is a strained friendship at best. What I've tried to do in this fic is find a proper way for them to reconnect―it's quite clear that they have had _some_ sort of friendship in the past―but, that being said, something like this doesn't just happen overnight. Specifically in regards to the Brittany/Santana/Rachel triangle, I don't think Quinn's actions or reactions are at all unreasonable, even from the standpoint of being a friend. Santana clearly has feelings for Rachel, and Quinn knows this, but Santana hasn't been entirely considerate of Brittany's feelings in the situation (in my, therefore Quinn's, opinion). While yes, both Brittany and Quinn should respect the fact that Santana has these feelings, who's to say they don't? Respecting someone's feelings does not imply that you give them blind acceptance and support regardless of their actions. Arguably Quinn _is_ respecting the way that Santana feels by being a shoulder to lean/cry on throughout this whole situation. Keep in mind, while Quinn's general distaste for Rachel may colour her opinions on the topic of Rachel, what we're talking about here (specifically in regards to last chapter) is the topic of Brittany. Practically eye-fucking Rachel in front of Brittany―_and_ the rest of New Directions, no less―is inconsiderate with respect to the hurt that B is feeling. Santana having feelings for Rachel does not justify her ignorance of Brittany's feelings, and Quinn's gonna let her know that.  
**Bottom line: **Quinn isn't a bad friend, Quinn is the friend who calls you out on your shit. Everyone has one of those.

**Brittany:  
**With regards to Brittany, I think her slushie-ing (sp?) Rachel only seems out of character because we've never seen Brittany hurt or angry on the show. She's been written in such an infantalized manner (Christmas ep, anyone?) that we've been programmed to believe she doesn't experience any emotions beyond unicorns and rainbows. I don't buy it. Teenagers are raging hormone bombs; they have feelings and sometimes they don't know how to deal with them. In the case of this fic, Brittany has _fallen in love_ with Santana―flat out, head-over-heels, _first-love _in love. This is (in my mind) the first time she's had to deal with such overwhelming emotions, and as such, she has no idea how to reconcile these feelings when they're not reciprocated. Furthermore, when the object of your affections is showering someone else with their affections, it's actually quite likely you will project your anger/hurt onto that someone else rather than the person you're in love with. (If you want to think about this in a different context, think about how 'the other woman' is often demonized in the case of cheating while the cheater is forgiven.) I think it's wholly reasonable to assume that Brittany would take her newfound feelings of anger/hurt out on Rachel, however irrational it may seem... and, given that this is WMHS, a girl that has no idea how to be mean to someone really only has one point of reference ;) Brittany's act was not a malicious attack on Rachel, but a simple misallocation of her feelings.  
**Bottom line: **Brittany has grown-up emotions, even if she doesn't know how to appropriately deal with them. While her actions may not be justifiable, they are certainly understandable.

**Overall:  
**I think a lot of the potentially confusing actions of secondary characters may stem from the fact that I have tried to keep this fic almost entirely Santana-centric. As such, we don't really see anyone else's thought process―with occasional exceptions. I actually thought this would make the story more interesting, more like a first person experience. When you see someone acting a certain way and you can't figure out why they would act like that, well, neither can Santana. In that sense, I think it makes the reader relate more to the way our protagonist is thinking and feeling―though I could be entirely off-base and not even know it lol. In any case, I hope you still decide to stick around for the ride. :)

**/long-windedness**

**Of course any feedback/difference of opinion/disagreement is entirely welcome :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: To allay any potential confusion, long blocks of italics are Santana's thoughts. In the case of a reeeeaaally long block, it's either a dream or a flashback. (Which one it is will generally be clear by the actual content.)**

**I don't know if I'll be publishing another chapter this week, but on the bright side t****his is a suuuuper long chapter... it kind of ran away on me, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :D**

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Santana can feel the panic rising within her as she reads the note: 'If you want to see The Magical Miss Berry alive again, deliver a briefcase containing 2.5 million dollars to Lima Park, to the garbage can at the northeast end of the park, by 3pm tomorrow.'

_She paces around the small room, continuously re-reading the ransom note and wondering what to do. She runs out of the house to her car but finds it isn't there. "What the fuck!" she yells aloud, dropping her head and running a hand over her face as her frustration rises._

_When she finally looks back up she sees something new: a massive rainbow that seems to taper off right at the edge of the driveway, where Kurt is standing in a tight black catsuit and a long multicoloured cape, with matching belt, eyemask, and 'G' emblazoned on his chest. She runs over to the boy in a panic. "Kurt!" she screams, stopping just a foot in front of him. "They took Rachel!" she elaborates, holding out the note in his direction._

_The boy nods his head and speaks calmly. "I know; that's why I'm here."_

_Santana's face screws, "Wait, what?" She finally takes a look over his outfit and finds herself growing increasingly confused. "How do you know that? And _what_ are you wearing?"_

_Kurt puffs up his small chest and places his fists on his hips. "I'm GayMan, sent by the Rainbow Coalition to fight Gay Crimes in all their forms. A rainbow is like my Bat-Signal. I knew as soon as the rainbow led me here that it _must_ have something to do with The Magical Miss Berry." He finally takes the proffered note into his hands and looks it over, realization washing over his face as he does. He raises a finger, "Aha! It's _just_ as I suspected."_

_Santana, despite being dumbfounded at Kurt's admission, raises an eyebrow in curiousity. "What is it, GayMan?" she asks hurriedly._

_He holds the note up to face the Latina and points across it with his finger. "You see the way the lettering is done―with curly, girlish handwriting and hearts to dot the 'I's?" Santana nods. "This _must_ be the work of none other than the nefarious Blonde-Haired Bandit!"_

_Santana gasps heavily. "But she's the most dangerous super-villain around! Oh GayMan, what are we going to do?" she asks in pure panic._

_Kurt takes a deep breath and tucks the note into his utility belt before reaching a hand out to the Latina. "Here, take my hand. We will harness the power of the rainbow and fly to my hideout, where we can better figure out what our next step is."_

_Santana looks at the boy's hand hesitantly, but, seeing no other option, does as he asks. Before she knows it, the two are travelling at remarkable speed over Lima towards the outskirts of town. When they tail down and land at the far end of the rainbow, they are in the middle of a dark forest. Santana shoots a discerning look at the boy, having no idea where they are._

"_Don't worry, Miss Lopez, this is the location of my secret hideout, the ManCave. My sidekick StraightBoy will have already done research to find out the location of the Blonde-Haired Bandit's evil lair." Santana doesn't move. "You must come along now―we've precious little time to waste if you wish to see The Magical Miss Berry again!" Kurt explains insistently, tugging on the Latina's hand. Santana cedes and follows the boy as they approach a tree. "Now, you may want to hold on tight," the boy explains as he wraps an arm around the girl, causing Santana to raise a questioning eyebrow. Kurt reaches out his other arm and pulls down on a tree branch, causing the ground beneath them to give way._

_As they start to fall, Santana wraps her arms tightly around the small superhero and squeezes her eyes shut, praying in her head to whatever deity is up there that this won't be how she dies. Before she knows it, her feet are firmly planted on the ground once more, as if she had just been gently put down. She opens her eyes and looks around to see that they are in a dark cave, but that it is strangely inviting. Despite its rugged walls, it's tastefully decorated with colourful furniture and accent pieces and with soft lighting that seems to bring the cave to life. There are also various computer-like devices scattered throughout the room, but they are mostly concentrated in the far corner, where a mohawked boy is sitting at one of the machines._

_At the commotion, the boy stands._

"_Puck?" Santana exclaims in disbelief. The boy is wearing a tight black suit with a white cape, belt, and eyemask, and a matching white 'S' emblazoned on his chest. She huffs her disbelief._

"_Miss Lopez," Kurt speaks, gesturing for the Latina to follow him towards the far end of the room. "This is my sidekick, StraightBoy." He gestures towards Puck._

_Puck nods in acknowledgement at the Latina before turning his attention back to Kurt as the pair approach. "GayMan, I cross-referenced the known locations of Gay Crimes committed by the Blonde-Haired Bandit, and I'm relatively sure I've managed to pinpoint the location of her evil lair," he explains, pointing to a computer screen._

"_Excellent work, StraightBoy. Prepare the ManMobile for takeoff," Kurt instructs as he turns back to face Santana, who still looks bewildered. "I'm sorry Miss Lopez, I know this must all be terribly overwhelming," he says warmly. "But as sure as there are rainbows, we're going to do our very best to bring The Magical Miss Berry back to you, safe and sound."_

_Santana nods in acceptance of Kurt's words, still feeling confused but also feeling some of the panic leave her body. "Ok," she starts, slightly shaky in her speech. "So what happens now?"_

"_We're going to take the ManMobile and investigate the location that StraightBoy identified as the Blonde-Haired Bandit's secret lair. You'll have to come with us―the secrets contained in the ManCave are simply too much for a woman to handle." He shakes his head. "Dag nab it, I should've thought of that beforehand."_

_Santana raises a questioning eyebrow, but decides to keep her attention focused on getting Rachel back. The next thing she knows, a shockingly phallic vehicle is pulling into the cave―light pink in colour, with an elongated hood and a split cab―that very closely resembles a certain part of the male anatomy. Santana smirks at the sight of the car, but then remembers the situation._

_Puck leans out of what would be the left testicle of the vehicle, "Ok GayMan, coordinates are locked and the ManMobile is fully equipped and ready to go!" Once he's done speaking, he hops into the passenger side of the cab._

_Kurt starts toward the vehicle with Santana in tow._

"_Wait, why are we driving if you can fly?" Santana asks curiously._

"_Unfortunately, StraightBoy cannot utilize the power of the rainbow like we can," Kurt answers over his shoulder, opening the car door and gesturing for the Latina to climb in. She does and settles into the centre seat in the back of the cab. Kurt climbs in and does up his seatbelt before turning back towards the Latina. "Now, you'll have to buckle up for safety. I always come in the back, which is a smooth entryway, but we launch through the front and it's a bit of a shaky ride."_

_Santana cringes at the possibly misplaced euphemism as she does up her seatbelt._

_Kurt just turns towards Puck. "Alright StraightBoy, let's go fight some Gay Crime!" he exclaims as he hits the gas._

_*.*.*.*_

_The trio arrive at a condemned warehouse―Santana's not even sure where―a short while later. They park in an adjacent parking lot before climbing out of the vehicle. She looks over at the dilapidated building, noting the name on the front: 'Gold Star Industries'._

"_Ok," Kurt starts, drawing Santana's attention, as he lays a set of blueprints out across the shaft of the car. "This is the layout of the warehouse. I think our best plan is to go for double penetration. You two go this way and bust in through the front," he points at a spot on the diagram. "And I will go around here and enter through the rear," he points at another spot. He looks up from the prints at the Latina, "I can't stress this enough, Miss Lopez, do _not_ do anything dangerous. StraightBoy and I are here to fight Gay Crime, you are simply here to get your lady love back."_

_Santana rolls her eyes slightly but nods nonetheless._

"_StraightBoy," Kurt addresses Puck. "For goodness sake, keep Miss Lopez safe." Puck nods in return as the small boy bounds off towards the rear of the warehouse._

"_I don't know why he always insists on going in through the backdoor," Puck says inquisitively as they approach the building, and Santana fights her laughter._

_As the two reach the front door, Puck crouches down, using a hand to keep Santana behind his body. "Stay back, Miss Lopez. We have no idea what we're facing once we open that door."_

_Santana raises an eyebrow and can't fight the urge to say something anymore. "Puck, you really need to stop talking to me like I'm a fucking little baby that can't take care of myself."_

_Puck straightens and turns to face the Latina. "Why do you keep calling me that?"_

"_What?" Santana replies, in complete confusion._

"_You keep calling me 'Puck'. Who is this 'Puck' and why do you think that I'm him?" He asks in all seriousness._

_Santana's brow drops and she sighs in frustration. "Ok, whatever, 'StraightBoy', let's just go fucking get Rachel."_

"_You mean The Magical Miss Berry?"_

"_Ugh, ok, what-the-fuck-ever you want to call her. Let's just go fucking rescue my girl, alright?"_

"_That is the plan, Miss Lopez," Puck says matter-of-factly as he turns back towards the door._

_The door is unlocked and the two enter the building to find nothing but a large pitch black space with a beacon of light shining down onto a chair in the middle of the room. Santana squints to see the illuminated scene, it being far in the distance, but what she sees is unmistakably Rachel, tied to a chair. She starts a dead sprint towards the chair._

"_Miss Lopez!" Puck yells, but it's in vain._

_Santana makes it about halfway across the open space between herself and Rachel before she feels her body hit the ground―hard. She's on her stomach as she reaches a hand up to her mouth to feel whether she's bleeding or not, finding that, thankfully, she is not. She turns around and, as she squints in the darkness, she's almost sure she can make out Finn hovering above her with a baseball bat._

"_Miss Lopez," he growls, confirming Santana's assumption. "We've been expecting you."_

_Santana can sense movement and hear a scuffle happening in front of her―with some grunting and groaning―before the entire warehouse lights up. The sudden brightness completely disorients the Latina, but once her eyes adjust she can see Puck standing over Finn, the baseball bat now in his posession, arms raised and ready to strike._

"_Stop!" a voice yells from across the room. Santana snaps her head around to see Brittany standing next to Rachel, dressed in tight black leather, holding a knife to the diva's throat._

"_Rachel!" Santana yells reflexively from her sitting position. She can hear the diva's muffled cries, but the girl can't speak because of the duct tape over her mouth._

"_Make another move, StraightBoy, and _this_ 'magical berry' gets cut into bite-sized pieces." Brittany states, rotating her knife around so that it reflects the light, seeming to make the situation even more real. Santana gasps and Puck stands still as a statue, waiting for further instruction. "Now why don't you just put that bat down," she suggests, in an overly kind manner._

_Santana looks pleadingly at Puck, who does as requested._

_As soon as the bat is on the ground, Finn shuffles over and grabs it, giving Puck a solid rap across the backs of his knees, causing him to fall to the ground with a thud._

_Finn laughs maniacally as he stands. "Shouldn't have fucked with me, little 'Boy'," he reprimands, now hovering above Puck and holding the bat out in his direction threateningly._

_Santana turns her attention back to Brittany. "B, why are you doing this?" she asks in a desperate voice, nearing tears._

_Brittany laughs sardonically, "Oh, silly girl, when will you realize that you're _mine_? I'm not much for sharing, you know."_

_Santana swallows a heavy lump in her throat, unsure of what to do. It's Puck who speaks._

"_Let the girl go, Blonde-Hair." He says sternly as he raises himself to his knees._

_Both Brittany and Finn laugh as Finn raises the bat once more and delivers a solid hit across Puck's back, causing him to tumble forward again. "Stay the fuck down, butt-boy!" he orders firmly._

"_You know what's funny?" Puck asks, rising back up to his knees defiantly._

_Brittany cocks an eyebrow, unable to resist, "What's that, then?"_

"_You are both such utter airheads that you completely ignored the fact that GayMan always comes through the backdoor," he smirks._

_As Puck finishes speaking, Kurt tackles Brittany to the ground from behind, sending the knife sliding across the cement floor. Finn raises his bat to strike Puck once more, but this time Puck's ready and catches the bat, pushing it back hard into the oafish boy's midsection. Santana is slightly frozen with the scene playing out in front of her, but snaps out of her daze long enough to scurry across the floor and grab the knife. As soon as she has the blade in her hands, she runs to Rachel's side._

"_Oh my god Rachel, are you ok?" she asks, neglecting the fact the girl still can't answer her as she starts to cut the ropes around the girl's hands and ankles._

_Once the diva's hands are free she reaches up and peels the duct tape off of her mouth, slightly wincing at the pain. As soon as Santana has cut her ankle restraints, she lunges forward, practically knocking the Latina over with a kiss._

_Santana pushes Rachel back by the shoulders. "Rachel, chill out, we've gotta get the fuck out of here!" she practically yells as she takes the diva's hand into her own and starts to run back towards the front door._

_Once the pair are outside, Santana glances from side to side, still having no clue where they are. She sighs and leads Rachel over to the ManMobile._

_She leans her back against the side of the car and slides down to sit on the cement of the parking lot. Rachel just looks at her incredulously, pointing a finger towards the vehicle. "That car is disgusting," she says with a shake of her head._

"_Whatever," Santana says tiredly. "It's not all that bad." As she looks over towards the warehouse, she can see both Kurt and Puck coming back towards the vehicle with Brittany and Finn in restraints. She stands and smirks at the would-be-villains as the guys load them into the back of the car. "Yeah," she starts, unable to resist. "You little bitches try fucking with us again and see where it gets you!" Both Brittany and Finn shoot Santana a death stare, causing to her slightly cringe, though she'd never admit it._

_Kurt closes the door once the prisoners are secured and turns to face Santana once more. "Ok, well, Miss Lopez, I assure you that you won't have to worry about those two anymore. We're going to hand them over to the proper authorities and see that they are dealt with accordingly," he smiles._

_Santana smiles and bounces over to the boy, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Thank you _so_ much, GayMan, I don't know how I can ever repay you..." she trails off as she leans back._

_Kurt scoffs, "Oh, I'm not interested in any kind of repayment that _you_ could provide. If you insist on some sort of compensation, I suggest you talk to StraightBoy," he explains, gesturing over his shoulder to Puck. Santana just scoffs, and Rachel pushes her out of the way to hug the boy herself._

"_Thank you so very much, GayMan. I was so scared," the diva explains, coming close to sobbing on the boy's shoulder. She turns her head to face Santana, not relinquishing her hold on Kurt. "I don't know if I want to go with her..." she trails off._

_Santana raises her brow._

_Kurt shakes his head as he lightly pushes Rachel off of him. "There's no need for thanks, ma'am, there is no way that the Rainbow Coalition would allow any harm to come to The Magical Miss Berry." He smiles genuinely, then leans into her ear to whisper something that Santana can't make out._

"_Fine," Rachel cedes softly, in seeming defeat._

_Kurt turns to Santana once more, "I suggest you take this Berry somewhere where she's safe, and that you take good care of her."_

"_But I don't understand..." Santana says unsurely, staring at their surroundings once more. "I don't even know where we are. How do we get back to Lima?"_

_Kurt steps towards the Latina and grabs her shoulders firmly, forcing her to face him. "Miss Lopez, if you are _ever_ in doubt, just follow the rainbow. It will always lead you to the right destination."_

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A loud sound wakes Santana―her alarm. She rolls towards the clock and groans as she realizes it's Monday morning. She smacks the thing before rolling onto her back, staring at the ceiling in thought. _What the fuck was that dream all about..._ she wonders. This was the second night in a row that she had had a completely off-the-wall dream that seemed to be related to the current state of her love life―the prior night's dream having included many not-even-thinly-veiled references to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, including a cameo by Mr. Schue as a librarian.

She shakes the thought and moves to sit up, feeling slightly groggy as she does so. She slowly shimmies to the edge of the bed and swings her feet over. As she looks down, her feet on the hardwood floor appear to be impossibly far away. She shakes her head to clear the cobwebs before making an attempt at standing. As soon as she's up on her feet, her head completely clouds and she falls right back onto the bed. She takes a couple deep breaths to collect herself and then tries to stand again, but with the same outcome.

_Fuck. _Santana's sick, and she knows it.

Not knowing what else to do, Santana uses all of her energy to shuffle back to the middle of her bed and pull the covers over herself once more before slipping back into sleep.

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Santana sits on the countertop in Puck's kitchen with the boy leaning against the counter next to her. She chances a glance around the room, noticing that it's pretty much empty. "There's no one here," she says absently.

_Puck moves to stand in front of the Latina with a raised brow. "I'm here, what else do you need?" he asks with a smug grin._

_Santana just rolls her eyes as she pushes Puck gently back. "I think I'm gonna leave," she explains as she hops down to the floor. As she starts to walk to the boy's bedroom to get her coat, Puck's hand on her wrist stops her._

"_Well, ok, but be careful," he warns seriously. "It's dangerous in there..." he trails off, releasing the Latina to point a wary finger towards his room._

_Santana looks at Puck discriminatingly―sure he must be on something to be experiencing such paranoia―before turning and heading down the hallway. When she opens the door her jaw immediately drops. Brittany and Quinn are on Puck's spotlit bed, barely wearing any clothing, their lips and hands travelling places that are making Santana blush. She covers her eyes with her hand and turns to leave, but a voice stops her._

"_Santana, is that you? Come and join me."_

_She leans around the door and squints to see Rachel sitting in a chair in a dark corner of the room, staring intently at the activities taking place between Quinn and Brittany. "Rachel? What are you doing here?" she asks as she cautiously approaches the diva. "You shouldn't be here."_

"_I'm learning by example," Rachel answers plainly, never tearing her stare away from the girls on the bed._

_Santana raises an eyebrow, "Rachel, this is totally inappropriate. We should leave these two alone..." she trails off, chancing a glance over to the blondes who have stopped and are now staring directly at her._

"_You could join us," Quinn drawls with a seductive smile and a raised eyebrow._

"_You don't have to love me," Brittany adds before biting her lip._

_Santana's eyes widen as she stares between the blondes. After a pensive moment, she simply shakes her head and snatches Rachel's hand, pulling her towards the door, making sure to grab her jacket on the way out._

_As soon as they step out of the room, Santana having just put on her jacket, the pair find themselves in the middle of Lima Park on a warm summer's afternoon. Rachel tugs on Santana's hand, causing the Latina to turn and face her._

"_Why did you wear your jacket? It's so hot out," the diva trails off, head cocked to the side in confusion._

_Santana thinks about it and really has no idea why she's wearing her coat. She quickly removes it and paces over to a bench to place it down. She reaches back and leads Rachel by the hand to take a seat on the bench._

_Suddenly her attention is drawn by Mike passing by behind her on a bicycle. "It's a beautiful day for asking questions, isn't it?" he remarks with a smile in a sing-songy voice._

_Santana smiles at the boy's words, watching as he rides away. As she turns back to Rachel, her smile spreads even further. She takes a deep breath and drops down to the grass on one knee, directly in front of the seated diva, taking one of her small hands into her own. "Rachel Barbra Berry," she starts, with her heart in her throat and tears brimming in her eyes. "Will you marry me?"_

_Rachel's face washes over in complete surprise. "Oh, Santana! I thought you'd never ask!" Santana's expression completely lights up. "That's why I said 'yes' when Finn proposed to me this morning!" the diva adds with a beaming smile, holding out her other hand, which is equipped with a sizeable engagement ring._

_Santana's face drops and she can feel a tear fall down her cheek in tandem with her heart falling completely out of her body. "But," she starts, taking the diva's other hand into her own as well, her gaze fixed on the girl's newest piece of jewellery. "But, Rachel, I love you..." she trails off, looking up with sad eyes._

_Rachel's smile doesn't falter. "Finn and I are getting married!" she says excitedly. "I'd love for you to be my Maid of Honour," she adds with bright eyes, as if it would solve everything._

_Santana looks down to their conjoined hands once more, still kneeling on the grass, completely shocked and rendered immobile._

_Suddenly Finn appears behind the bench and hugs the diva from behind. Santana glances up to see the boy looking at her with a smug grin. "Guess the best _man_ won," he says with a chuckle as he stands up straight, leaving a possessive hand on Rachel's shoulder._

_Santana can feel the anger rising within her and suddenly finds she has no trouble moving anymore. She springs up to her feet and lunges over the bench, past the diva, tackling the idiotic jock to the ground. She starts pounding his face mercilessly, only stopping when a sobbing Rachel tries, unsuccessfully, to pull her back._

_She raises her fists and looks at them to see green liquid covering her knuckles. She looks back down to see an alien-like corpse beneath her where Finn was moments prior. She feels a hand come to rest on her shoulder and hears a strong voice behind her._

"_I told you it was dangerous..."_

* * *

Santana wakes to the sound of her phone playing the new text notification. She groans and reaches out to the nightstand, noticing that the clock now reads 11:52 am. She grabs the phone and rolls onto her back, holding it above her face.

'Where are you?' the text from Quinn reads. Santana sighs and quickly taps out a response.

'Sick. Sleeping.' She hits send and places the phone down on the bed beside her. She tries again to sit up, finding it slightly easier this time around. She can feel an itching sensation in the back of her throat, and tries to clear it, but with no success. She groans and works her way over to the edge of the bed―sick or not, she still has to pee.

When she returns from the bathroom, still feeling incredibly groggy and moving at a laboured pace, she leans against the doorframe of her bedroom, just staring at her bed. She can't decide whether or not to go back to sleep. After a few moments of silent contemplation, she decides to go downstairs and settle on the couch―her dreams are just getting too weird. She ambles over to her bed and grabs her phone and her comforter before slowly working her way down the stairs.

She settles on the couch with her comforter wrapped around her before she flips on the TV. She looks at the phone in her hand before placing it down, noticing that she has received a response from Quinn.

'Fucking wuss :P get better soon - need you here to keep Puck off my back.' Santana chuckles a little, assuming that the boy has no recollection of the tail end of Saturday night. She doesn't respond though, opting instead to place the phone down on the coffee table and lie down across the couch.

She starts aimlessly flipping through channels. _Daytime TV really is balls, _she thinks to herself as she settles on some soap opera that seems to have at least a semi-interesting storyline going on. She tries to focus on the inane plot, but finds her eyes repeatedly drifting closed. As much as she tries to fight it off, she's asleep again within half an hour.

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Brittany storms in through the front door of the mansion, "Did you really think it would be that easy to get rid of me? That you could just tell me you don't feel the same and my feelings would instantly go away like they were never there?" the blonde asks, the anger rising within her as she speaks.

_Santana runs a hand through her hair in frustration as she looks down to the roaring fireplace dramatically._

_The blonde seizes the opportunity and quickly approaches the Latina, taking both of her hands into her own and tugging on them, causing the girl to look up into her eyes. "This here? This is how it's supposed to be," she says tenderly. "You and me. Together. 'Fuck the rest of the world', that's what you said, right?"_

_Santana averts her stare again as she tugs her hands away and turns her back to the blonde. "It could never work, Brittany. I just don't feel for you that way."_

_Brittany steps forward and wraps her arms around Santana's body, running them up and down the girl's front, drawing a light moan. She smiles into the Latina's neck. "But you do feel something..." she trails off as she cranes her neck to place soft kisses onto the brunette's._

_Santana can feel her resolve crumbling as she turns in Brittany's arms to face her. "We can't do this, B. There are too many people involved. And we _have_ to think of the baby!" she adds as a final definitive point, turning her head away from the blonde who still has a possessive hold around her waist._

_Brittany's eyes shift and she reaches a hand up to the Latina's cheek, gently turning the girl's head to face her once more. She leans in and places a soft kiss on the girl's lips before urgently trying to deepen the embrace._

"_Get your hands off of my woman!" a stern voice booms._

_The conjoined pair break the kiss and turn their heads to see a notably angry and obviously pregnant brunette standing at the top of the stairwell. She starts a slow stroll down the massive staircase, a protective hand on her belly and her eyes fixed on the offending blonde._

"_Rachel!" Santana says in shock, pulling out of Brittany's hold as fast as she can, making sure to put a few feet of space between their bodies. "This isn't what it looks like," she says innocently, an apologetic look playing across her eyes._

"_Oh, I'll bet it isn't," Rachel says sarcastically as she reaches the bottom floor and advances further into the room._

_Brittany just rolls her eyes at the diva. "Rachel," she greets with a scoff, a hint of a challenge in her voice._

"_Brittany," the diva regards the blonde, flippantly, as if she were the speck of shit on her shoe._

"_Rachel, I swear, I would never do anything to hurt you..." Santana pleads, earning nothing but a death glare from the diva. Brittany snorts, earning a shift in the diva's gaze._

"_You pathetic little slut, always coming into _my_ house and trying to take my _wife_ away from me? It's sad really," Rachel spits out. "You're no better than that vagabond Puck, always jumping from bed to bed with the local housewives!"_

_The blonde rolls her eyes. "Well, obviously something isn't working here seeing as your 'wife' is always welcoming me with open arms..." she trails off with a smug look on her face._

_Santana just shakes her head exaggeratedly. "Rachel, you know that's not―"_

"_Just shut up, Santana!" the diva all-but-yells. "This is between me and that little whore," she explains, pointing a threatening finger at the blonde. "You get the HELL out of my house and don't you ever come back, 'cause if you do," she pauses, shaking her head in fury. "Well let's just say that you won't be seeing the sunshine ever again." She smiles maniacally and cocks an eyebrow, returning the blonde's challenge._

_The expression on Brittany's face is unreadable at first, but then morphs into a crooked smile. "Oh, I'll stay away," she starts. "But that doesn't mean _she'll_ stay away from _me_." She turns her head to wink at Santana, causing an already fuming Rachel to positively turn red._

_Rachel advances on the blonde quickly and gives her a solid slap across the face before using her hand to point to the door. "Out, now, before I call the police and get your pale, flat ass thrown in jail!" she yells, the look in her eyes causing even Santana to tremble._

_The blonde just smiles and curtseys condescendingly before leaving the house._

"_Rachel―" Santana starts as she moves to stand next to the diva. She's stopped once again―this time by one of the diva's fingers on her lips. The brunette trails her hand down the Latina's arm to take her hand._

_Rachel leads Santana to sit on the couch so that they are facing each other and takes the girl's hands into her own. She looks down at the contact as she speaks, "I need to tell you something... about the baby."_

_Santana's brow rises as she stares worriedly at the small brunette. "What is it?" she asks quietly._

_Rachel looks up into the Latina's eyes for a moment before averting her stare to anywhere else. She lets go of the cheerleader's hands and rises, starting to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace while wringing her hands together. She takes a deep breath before speaking, "It's... it's not yours."_

_Santana's brow drops, the unmistakable heat of anger entering her heart and spreading across her face. "What are you talking about?" she asks in a serious tone._

_Rachel paces a little more before finally coming to a stop and turning to face the Latina, a high level of hesitance playing across her eyes. "It's Finn's," she finally says, silently, but Santana registers every word. She stays glued to the couch for a moment before finally rising, her anger matching her movement._

"_What do you mean it's Finn's?" she yells across the living room, angry tears threatening her eyes._

_The diva averts her eyes, feeling tiny under the Latina's glare._

"_You mean to tell me that after all we'd been through you were _still_ sleeping with that fucking ogre?.!" she exclaims, starting to advance towards the pregnant woman. She stops about a foot from the diva and raises her hand, ready to strike._

_Rachel's eyes follow Santana's hand and she wrenches her eyes shut, bracing for impact._

_Before Santana can follow through, her attention is pulled to the front door once more when an extremely frazzled-looking blonde bursts in. Rachel also opens her eyes to look over at their most recent uninvited guest._

"_You guys have to come quick!" Quinn exclaims, slightly doubling over to catch her breath. "There's been a terrible accident! It's Brittany!"_

_The anger runs out of Santana's face and her heart basically drops out of her body as she automatically sprints out through the front door and past the blonde, fearing the worst. She only makes it about 50 yards down the street before she sees it―Brittany's car wrapped in a casing of wreckage and fire. Still close to a football-field's length away from the carnage, she drops to her knees and starts to sob, knowing no one could survive a crash like that. She feels a pair of arms wrap around her and pull her head to rest on a shoulder. She opens her eyes, without looking up, to see blonde hair creating a curtain in front of her face._

_She cries with reckless abandon. "I killed her!" she screams, completely disregarding the fact that she's doing so right next to Quinn's ear. The blonde winces slightly but neither speaks nor relinquishes her hold on the Latina._

_Rachel stands about ten feet behind the pair, staring at the wreckage, a satisfied smile playing across her features. "Shouldn't have fucked with my family," she laughs softly._

* * *

Santana wakes, once again, to the new text notification on her phone. She doesn't sit up, but reaches out to grab the device from the table, bringing it to her face, first noticing the time: 1:56. The message is from Puck and is typically straightforward.

'Quinn's pissed at me.'

Santana rolls her eyes and types a short and sweet message back, 'Yep.'

It's not long before she receives a response. 'Was i a total d-bag on saturday?'

Santana doesn't have to think before responding, 'Yep.'

'Fuck' comes the simple reply.

Santana chuckles softly as she writes her own response. 'Not from the sounds of it.'

'Shit.' comes an almost immediate reply.

'Yep.' Santana types out once more before sitting up―a little too quickly, if the spinning in her head is any indication. She brings a hand to her forehead to brace her head as she uses her other to put the phone back onto the table. She turns herself around to ground her feet and face the TV, figuring that it may be the only way to keep herself awake.

She yawns and stretches her arms above her head before letting herself sink into the backrest, grabbing the remote to flip through channels again. If there were any benefit to going to school it was the avoidance of horrible daytime television programming. She smirks as she decides to settle on Maury and enjoy some much needed schadenfreude. _Maury Povich is probably single-handedly keeping the DNA testing industry in business,_ she chuckles to herself.

She quickly starts to grow bored with the monotony of the show. No matter the outcome, it was all the same: some girl claiming to know who the father is―1 million percent so―and a guy, or group of guys, denying paternity based solely on the fact the girl is 'a whore'. _Apparently these guys think their sperm doesn't work if the girl gets around,_ the Latina muses as she allows herself to lie down across the couch once more.

It's not long before her eyes drift closed again.

* * *

"_Everyone, I want you to welcome Rachel to the show." Maury introduces the diva, earning a kind round of applause from the audience._

_Rachel sits on her chair trying to maintain her composure, tissues in her hand as defiant tears slip down her face intermittently. She smiles blandly at the audience's acknowledgement._

"_Now, Rachel comes to us in a very unique situation," Maury starts, pausing for dramatic effect. "You see, just two months ago, Rachel gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Liza."_

_A photo of an adorable brunette baby pops up on the screen behind the pair, drawing a collective 'aww' from the audience and a reflexive smile from the diva at the sight of her daughter._

"_And," Maury continues. "She has been together with her fiancé, Santana, for almost two years." A video feed of Santana standing backstage pops up on the video screen, and the crowd applauds lightly. "Seems like a pretty happy situation, no?" he trails off before he grows serious. "But, you see, the problem is Santana has started to deny that she is the biological father of Rachel's daughter!" A resounding 'boo' echoes through the soundstage, and Santana rolls her eyes backstage. "In fact!" he continues, his voice rising in amazement as he raises his cue cards in emphasis. "Not only is she denying paternity, but she believes that the _true_ father is Rachel's ex-boyfriend―a man by the name of Finn!" this final revelation is met by a series of gasps and 'ooh's as a feed of Finn in one of the greenrooms is projected on the screen._

_Maury turns on his chair to better face Rachel with a calm demeanour. "Now Rachel, when exactly was it that Santana started to deny Liza?"_

_Rachel dabs the tissue along her bottom eyelids before she speaks. "Three months before she was born," she explains sadly._

_The host nods lightly, "Does Santana have any _reason_ to believe she's not the father?"_

"_No, Maury! Not even one!" Rachel responds simply. As the screen starts to project a split screen of two photos―one of Santana and one of the infant in question―the diva runs up to the screen. "See!" she remarks, pointing between the two photos. "Look at that nose! And those eyes! This is her child, and she knows it." Suddenly the screen shifts back to the feed of the Latina backstage, who is shaking her head at the camera, earning another round of boos from the audience._

"_Come sit back down," Maury prompts as he stands, gently guiding the frustrated diva back to her chair. He turns back to face the camera. "Well, you know what, we've got both Santana and Finn here today and we've done DNA tests, so we'll be able to answer this question once and for all!" Rachel applauds along with the audience. "Now, I think it's about time we hear from the fiancé herself. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the show: Santana!" he gestures an arm towards the stairs leading down to the soundstage._

_Santana emerges from backstage to a warm welcome of 'boo's and various obscenities directed at her from the audience. She takes her seat next to Rachel, taking the girl's hand into her own and kissing it before relinquishing it again, earning a decidedly mixed reaction from the audience._

"_Welcome, Santana," the host greets warmly._

"_Thanks, Maury," she replies simply, fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she shifts uncomfortably in her chair._

"_Now, Santana, what changed that made you think you weren't the father of Rachel's child? Because you believed this _was_ your child at the beginning of the pregnancy, didn't you?" the host probes as he crosses his legs, clasping his hands over his knee._

_Santana sighs. "I heard a rumour that―although _she_ told me that they ended things―" she gestures a hand at Rachel briefly before dropping it back to her lap. "That she cheated on me, multiple times, with Finn," this time the Latina looks almost close to tears, and for the first time the audience seems to sympathize with her a bit._

"_Now Rachel," the host turns his attention to the diva. "How long ago was it that you and Finn dated?"_

_Rachel sighs heavily before speaking in a soft voice. "We dated right before me and Santana got together," she explains, earning some unimpressed gazes from audience members._

"_And have you slept with Finn at all since the two of you all have been together?" he asks simply._

_Rachel swallows a heavy lump in her throat before answering truthfully. "Once," she says firmly, earning a resounding 'boo' and some yelling from the crowd. "But she knows about it and she forgave me!" she defends herself, gesturing at the Latina who just rolls her eyes._

"_Well let's bring in the final piece to this puzzle." Maury cuts into the audience uproar. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Finn!" he announces, once again gesturing to the stairs._

_This time it's the jock who enters the soundstage to be met by a reverberating wall of 'boo's. He shakes hands with Maury before settling into his seat, a few feet away from Santana's._

"_So, Finn," the host starts. "How did you manage to get involved in all of this?"_

_Finn adjusts the collar on his jacket slightly before he speaks. "Uh, well, there was one night where we got drunk at a party..." he starts, gesturing to the diva and then to himself. "And we, well... we ended up having a, um, a one night stand," he stumbles over his words._

_Santana remains uncharacteristically silent during the boy's account of the events until he decides to add to his initial statement._

"_I actually hope it's my kid," he footnotes absently. "I'd make a much better father."_

_Santana can feel her anger rise and nearly knocks over her chair with how abruptly she stands. She stomps across the stage, and the crowd cheers as she launches a punch straight at the seated boy. Her fist doesn't connect, though, as she finds herself being pulled back by a security guard. Finn shuffles his chair away a few more feet as Santana settles back into her own, shooting ice into the boy's eyes._

_Maury stands and heads to the edge of the stage. "Well let's just clear this all up right now, shall we?" he says simply, earning cheers as he retrieves a manila envelope from one of his stagehands. He sits back down as he opens the envelope, pulling out two sheets of paper. He proceeds to read the first sheet: "In the case of two-month-old Liza... Santana, you are _not_ the father."_

_A series of gasps and shocked expressions fill the room. Santana's head drops into her hands as she fights back the beginnings of tears, refusing to cry mostly on principle, but also on national television. Rachel averts her stare to the ground in shame. Santana wants to leave right then and there, but can't compel herself to do so until she hears the results of the second test._

_Maury flips to the second sheet, "And, Finn, in the case of two-month-old Liza... you _are_ the father."_

_That's all Santana can take. She stands, her hands balled into fists at her sides as she slightly turns her head to look down at Rachel. "I fucking knew it," she says coarsely at the apologetic diva. She stomps to the edge of the stage, heading towards the backstage area._

_When she passes through the threshold to backstage, she finds she's no longer in the studio at all. Rather, she's in the gym of William McKinley High School, surrounded by other students dressed in formal attire. She instantly feels underdressed, but looks down to see that she _is_, in fact, wearing a dress. She looks around to see the tacky streamers and decorations scattered throughout the gymnasium―strung between the basketball nets and along the folded up bleachers. Her attention is only drawn up to the main stage when someone clears their throat into the microphone and the music she didn't even realize was playing fades._

"_Alright everyone, it's the moment we've all been waiting for!" Mr. Schue announces with a broad smile. "Time to reveal who you've voted as this year's Prom King & Queen!" The statement earns a round of applause and cheers from the student populace filling the room. "So, just so everyone knows we had an _extremely _close race this year, so congratulations are due to all of our candidates!" he claps his hands, compelling the students to do the same. Finally, Artie hands him the first of two envelopes. Schue holds the envelope up in the air before speaking. "Alright! First, this year's Prom King... is..." he draws out as he slightly struggles to break the seal on the envelope. When he finally does, he reads it and his eyes light up, "Finn Hudson!"_

_Cheers and applause fill the room once more as the oafish boy makes his way up to the stage. Santana rolls her eyes and scoffs as Schue places the traditional crown on the tall boy's head._

_Schue clears his throat once more, to regain the room's attention. "Alright, and now," he rips the envelope open with ease this time, smiling wider as he reads the name. "This year's Prom Queen is Rachel Berry!"_

_Santana's eyes widen and a smile plays across her features at the name. There's surprisingly little dissent as the crowd once again cheers and hollers, the Latina joining in this time. Her heart pounds as Rachel ascends to the stage, dressed in a sinfully tight black dress. She can feel a single tear threaten to escape as she watches the pure expression of joy on the diva's face when the tiara is gently placed on her head. The Latina's expression shifts when Mr. Schue speaks again, though._

"_Alright boys and girls, if you'll now please clear a space on the floor―it's time for our King and Queen to have their spotlight dance!" he gestures towards the front of the floor and the crowd clears where a spotlight beams down into the dimly lit gym._

_Santana's brow drops and she can feel herself almost sneer as Finn helps Rachel down the stairs from the stage with a protective hand on the small of her back. She's sure she's outright scowling as the boy wraps his clumsy arms around the brunette's waist and Rachel, with a beaming smile, wraps her arms around the boy's broad shoulders._

Get a hold of your fucking self,_ she silently reprimands herself as she closes her eyes and lowers her head in frustration._

_When she looks up again, everything has changed. She's no longer in the WMHS gym, but rather in a large reception hall. The room is bright compared to her previous setting, and there are tables set up throughout the room with tasteful white linens, filled with people in formal attire. As she continues to look around, she feels a tug on her arm and realizes she's the only one standing. As she takes her seat, she doesn't look back to see who corrected her faux pas, rather looking ahead for the first time to see that Rachel and Finn are still joining together for a dance, but this time with Rachel in a gorgeous white gown and Finn in a slick black tuxedo._

This is Rachel and Finn's wedding._ She cringes as she registers the horrible truth, but watches as the couple start to move slowly to the beat, immediately recognizing the song―'Breathe' by Faith Hill. Her heart breaks as she flashes back to when she and Rachel had sung the same song together. The lyrics seem to mock her as the jock and the diva sway together to words that Santana felt were hers, and hers alone, to express to Rachel._

"_See that?" she hears a soft voice say. She turns her head slightly to the right to see that Brittany has sidled her chair up right next the Latina's. The blonde leans right into Santana's ear as she speaks, her breath tickling against the brunette's skin. "They're meant to be together. And so are we."_

* * *

Santana sits up on the couch abruptly, but has no idea what caused her to wake. She reaches a tentative hand up to scratch her head. It's only a few moments later when the doorbell rings again that she figures it out. She reaches her arms up in a stretch before trying to stand. As in the morning, as soon as she stands, a wave of dizziness washes over her and she falls back onto the couch. She takes a couple deep breaths and tries again before ceding to her body's objections. The doorbell only rings once more before ceasing permanently.

Santana sighs, _If it's important they'll call... or come back... or leave a note..._

Her thoughts are interrupted when her phone lights up. She uses all of her energy to lean forward and grab the device from the table before quickly, and quite ungracefully, collapsing back onto the couch. She's at once shocked and elated to see that it's Rachel.

'Why aren't you answering your door?'

She smiles as she taps out her response. 'Having a bit of trouble standing... back door is unlocked.'

A few minutes pass before she hears the back door open and then click shut again. "Santana?" the diva's strong voice fills the empty house.

"In here," she croaks out, unsure if the diva can hear her and shocked by the amount of pain merely vocalizing is causing her.

Within moments Rachel is standing in the doorway to the living room with two large shopping bags in her hands. "Oh my god, you look horrible," she says plainly.

Santana raises an eyebrow. "Thanks," she scoffs, immediately regretting it as it sends her into a fit of coughs that grate against her dry throat.

Rachel enters the room briefly, placing her bags down on the coffee table before turning and leaving. Santana watches the girl's retreating form with a questioning glare, but doesn't dare try to vocalize her confusion, instead just pulling her comforter tightly around her shoulders.

The diva returns shortly with a glass of water. She places it down on the coffee table before taking a seat next to the Latina on the couch. She leans forward to the table and starts digging through one of the shopping bags, pulling out a substantial number of different medications and placing them down in a line. Santana's eyes widen and she looks up at the girl in confusion.

"Quinn told me you've fallen ill, but failed to elaborate, so I made sure to cover all our bases. Obviously you have a cough... sore throat?" The Latina nods. Rachel picks up a package and starts to read it. She looks to the cheerleader again, "Muscle aches?" Santana nods again. "Fever?" She shrugs, honestly unsure. Rachel reaches into the other bag and pulls out a thermometer. She opens the box and pulls the device out, slipping one of the included plastic baggies over the sensor before holding it up to the Latina's lips. "Open," she instructs simply, and Santana does as she's told, taking the thermometer into her mouth and closing her lips around it.

Rachel reaches a hand up to sweep some hair that has slipped out from the Latina's almost-non-existent-anymore ponytail behind her ears before standing. She moves to Santana's side and removes the hair tie from her tresses, gathering the hair into a neat ponytail before tying it off again. As she settles onto the couch once more the thermometer beeps and she removes it to look at it. Santana looks up at her with questioning eyes.

"No fever," the diva says simply before returning the device to its box. "Ok," she says as she starts to read over another couple boxes of medication. She looks back up, "Runny nose? Sneezing?" Santana just shakes her head and Rachel smiles. "Ok, I think we have a winner." She opens the box and takes the container out, retrieving two pills from it before picking up the glass of water. She holds the pills and glass out to the Latina. "Take these―they should make you stop feeling all the mental fogginess." Santana takes the items as offered. Rachel leans forward to rummage through her bags again before sitting back up with a package of lozenges. "And these," she starts as she opens the package. "Should help with your throat... maybe even get you talking again." She pauses, thinking it over. "Hm, not sure if that's a good idea," she deadpans.

Santana rolls her eyes as she swallows down the second pill. She hands the glass of water back to Rachel and takes the foil packet of lozenges in exchange, immediately popping one in her mouth.

Rachel starts rummaging through the bags once more and pulls out a package of Neo-Citron. She stands and starts to head towards the kitchen, but Santana reaches out a hand and places it on her wrist, causing her to turn and look down at the sick girl. Santana looks at the diva pointedly with a soft smile of gratitude. Rachel just shakes her head. "Don't worry about it. There's no way I'd leave you here all by yourself when you're sick. You should be taken care of," she smiles softly.

Santana would kiss the girl if she weren't worried about making the diva sick. Her heart is pounding harder than she'd like to admit just at Rachel's words. If she's honest with herself, she's not sure she's ever had anyone care for her this much, let alone someone who was overtly pissed off at her the last time they had spoken. She shoots the diva the most genuine smile she can muster before mouthing 'thank you, anyway'.

Rachel rolls her eyes and shakes the packet of Neo-Citron in explanation before heading back to the kitchen. Santana watches the diva intently as she leaves, her eyes never leaving the shapely outline of the girl's ass through her skirt. She shakes her head in silent reprimand as Rachel disappears around the corner, but immediately regrets her decision, bringing a hand up to her forehead in an attempt to still her spinning head. Once she collects herself, she closes her eyes to sift through her thoughts. _She should probably still be pissed off,_ she muses. She can't get over the fact that the girl is actually here taking care of her when, if the situation were reversed, Santana would probably be laughing―believing karma had done its job.

After a few pensive minutes Rachel returns, pulling Santana from her thoughts. The diva stands in front of her holding out a steaming mug of the medicated drink. Santana smiles her thanks as she takes the proffered cup. Rachel just smiles and shakes her head in return before sitting down once more.

Once seated, Rachel grabs the remote from the side table and turns on the TV, idly flipping through channels until she finds something worth settling on.

Santana quickly drains about half of her drink―it and the lozenge combining to already make her throat feel monumentally better―before her stomach growls pronouncedly. She smiles sheepishly at Rachel, who glances over with a raised brow.

"Have you even eaten anything?" she asks dryly.

Santana hides behind her mug, taking another long sip before shaking her head slightly.

Rachel shakes her head and sighs in slight frustration. "Alright that settles it." The Latina raises a questioning eyebrow that prompts the diva to continue. "You're coming to stay with me and my dads."

Santana shakes her head slowly and deliberately, her eyes wide in obvious disagreement.

Rachel sighs. "Santana, you're sick and, quite clearly, unable to take care of yourself right now."

Santana drops her brow in objection as she speaks, albeit hoarsely. "What the fuck are you talking about? I'm fine," she coughs as she leans forward to put the mug down.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I can see _that_," she glares, but Santana doesn't back down. "Ok then, let's go to the kitchen." She stands abruptly and holds out a hand for the Latina to take.

Santana stares at Rachel's hand for a couple moments. _If ever there was a time to man up and stand the fuck up, it's now Lopez._ She tosses the comforter off of her body to the other end of the couch, not even considering taking the diva's hand before quickly popping up onto her feet. For a few brief seconds she feels quite good and starts to think she may even be better already, but shortly thereafter the consequences of her quick movement catch up to her and she finds herself falling right back onto the couch with an "Oof."

Rachel chuckles slightly at the Latina's defiance as well as the end result. "That's what I thought. I'll call my dads and they can carry your stubborn behind out of here―because as much as I'd love to do it myself, I'm not entirely sure I have the required muscle mass for such an endeavour..." she trails off thoughtfully.

Santana's brow drops once more as she looks up at the diva, "Wait, did you just call me fat?"

Rachel raises a hand to her chin, pursing her lips and looking down at the Latina in mock-thought. "Maybe 'butch'..."

Santana's eyes widen in offense, but she doesn't speak.

Rachel leans down to the cheerleader's ear. "It's ok, I like you all hot and muscle-y," she whispers before standing back upright with a mischievous smile.

Santana just raises an eyebrow, unsure whether she should be pissed off or flattered. She thinks for a minute and releases a deep sigh before she speaks, part of her still convinced that this could just be another dream. "So this is how you want me to meet your dads? When we're fighting or whatever and I'm sick as a fucking dog? Doesn't seem like the odds are stacked in my favour..." Rachel's eyes shoot down to the ground, and Santana knows something's up. "Rachel... do your dads not know about us?" she asks shyly, reaching out to touch the diva's hand.

Rachel falls back onto the couch next to the Latina before chancing an apologetic glance over at her.

"Oh," Santana says softly in realization, surprised to feel slightly hurt. If there's one thing about Rachel Berry that's widely known, it's that her dads are her best―if not _only―_friends. Though she wishes it wasn't affecting her as much as it is, the fact that the diva seems to have hidden the details of their budding relationship from them makes her frown.

The diva sighs and shifts her body to face the cheerleader. "I wasn't ready to tell them because I didn't know where any of this was _going_ before Saturday... and then I was pissed off." Santana looks down, still feeling guilty about the situation. "And then there's the question of how they'd react to the fact that I'm in a relationship with a _girl_..." Rachel trails off, seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

Santana just looks at the girl in confusion. "Wait, aren't your dads gay? Shouldn't they be, like, celebrating the news? Ticker tape parade and all that shit?"

Rachel slightly narrows her gaze, "They're still my dads. They'll see it as an impulsive decision, especially given than I've only ever dated―or even expressed _interest_ in―guys..."

Santana raises an eyebrow. "So I'm the only girl?" she ventures with a smile, reaching forward to take the diva's hands in her own.

"You're my only girl," Rachel says confidently, shuffling forward on the couch to wrap the Latina in a hug. She pulls back with a wide smile.

"And you," Santana starts, tapping Rachel's nose with her index finger. "Are part of a _vast_ harem," she jokes, moving her hand away in a sweeping motion as she speaks. Rachel slaps her shoulder playfully. "Seriously though, I mean honesty's the best policy, ri―" The diva cuts off her speech with a hand over her mouth, drawing a raised eyebrow from the Latina.

"Usually I'd just shut you up with a kiss," Rachel says plainly, keeping her hand in place. "But obviously maintaining that harem has left you with some sort of communicable disease..." she trails off with a playful smile.

Santana just raises her eyebrow again and licks the diva's palm.

"Santana!" the diva reprimands as she retracts her hand and stares at it in disgust. "Ugh, now I have to go wash my hands," she laments as she stands and starts towards the bathroom.

Santana just laughs, causing her to launch into a mini coughing fit as the diva leaves.

* * *

It's close to 6pm when Santana actually looks at the time, doing so only because her nerves are rising as 6:15―the time when Rachel's fathers would be there to pick them up―starts to draw nearer. She hasn't spoken at all in the past half hour, rather listening and trying to gather as much information as she can while the diva gives her the run-down on what to expect from her parents. As Rachel explains it, 'Daddy', otherwise known as Kevin, is a tall African-American agnostic man. He's a social worker with the City of Lima and, though he carries himself with a serious demeanour, he's just a big softy underneath the facade. Conversely, 'Dad', a.k.a. David, is a short Jewish-American man who wears glasses and is true to his faith. He's a surgeon at Lima Regional Hospital and the iron fist in the house. He also happens to be the one Rachel warns will most likely immediately disapprove of their relationship based solely on the fact that Santana happens to be female.

Santana sighs, but it's mostly in contentment. After all, Rachel's fathers didn't even have an inkling of an idea that the two were in a relationship yet, so on the face of the situation they'd have no reason to 'disapprove' of the Latina, per se. _Unless they know how I've treated her the past 10 years..._ She raises a hand to her head, suddenly feeling a headache coming on―one completely unrelated to her sickness.

Rachel reads what's happening and reaches out a hand to remove Santana's and take it into her own. "Hey," she coos softly, slightly tugging the Latina towards her so that the girl's head is resting on her shoulder. "It's going to be alright," she reassures the cheerleader, running a comforting hand along the side of her head.

Santana looks up at the diva with apprehension in her eyes. She clears her throat slightly before speaking. "So... how much _do_ your dads know about me?" she asks in the meekest voice Rachel thinks she's ever heard from the girl.

Rachel looks straight ahead in thought for a moment before meeting the cheerleader's gaze once more. "Well," she sighs. "They know enough that they're probably not going to be fledgling members of your fan club..." she smiles apologetically.

"Well, that'd be impossible anyway," Santana says simply, drawing a confused look from the diva. "Clearly I already _have_ a sizeable fun club," she smirks and Rachel just rolls her eyes. "Seriously, though? I'm not usually this nervous about meeting parents... I just wish I was starting out on neutral ground..." she sighs heavily as she sinks into the diva's shoulder once more.

Rachel sighs in return, collecting her thoughts before speaking again. "It'll be ok," she assures the Latina once more, resuming gentle strokes along her hair. "Daddy will love you instantly because you're funny and you haven't _directly_ given him a reason to dislike you." She pauses and smiles as she feels Santana smile against her shoulder, but sighs once more and drops her smile as she realizes she's about to draw the same shift in expression from the Latina. "Dad, on the other hand," she hesitates, not wanting to terrify the girl. "Well, he's probably not going to be as easy-going about the whole thing..."

Santana's face drops, but any proper reaction she might have had is interrupted by her phone indicating a new text. She lifts her head from the diva's shoulder and reaches out to grab the device.

'Coach said she's going to rip you a new one. I don't know what that means. When did she rip you an old one?' Santana rolls her eyes at Brittany's simplicity before placing the phone back down on the side table.

When she turns back to the diva she's met with a raised eyebrow. "Apparently Coach is pissed that I wasn't at practice," she explains simply, carefully choosing to omit the fact that the text was from a certain blonde the diva is currently none-too-fond of.

"Sue Sylvester _angry_? You must be joking..." Rachel trails off playfully.

Santana smirks. "Yeah, yeah, it's all fun and games until I go back to practice and get my ass handed to me."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Why do you do it?" she asks with genuine interest.

Santana raises an eyebrow, "Put up with Sue or cheerios in general?"

"I guess both."

Santana looks past the diva thoughtfully, trying to think of how to word what she wants to say. "Well, obviously I put up with Sue 'cause it's the only way I can do cheerios... plus she's just fucking hilarious sometimes..." Rachel slightly winces at Santana's words, and the Latina notices. "What?"

"Um, I should warn you that you may have to watch your tongue around my dads... they're not big fans of swearing."

Santana drops her head onto the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling in exhaustion. "Fucking hell," she laments.

"Yeah, see, that? Not gonna fly." Rachel smiles lightly.

Santana lifts her head once more and narrows her eyes at the diva slightly. "Well then," her expression lightens as she smiles. "I guess I should get it all out now, shouldn't I?" Her smile spreads further as the diva looks like she's about to object, and she just raises a finger and launches into it. "Fuck; ass; pussy; bitch; whore..." she trails off and Rachel looks at her questioningly. She furrows her brow before speaking, "Believe it or not, now when I'm on the spot I'm actually having trouble thinking of words..."

"Cock?" Rachel suggests with a wry smile.

The Latina just raises an eyebrow and looks at the diva in surprise, "Are you offering?"

Rachel smirks, "Floozy."

"You're more well-versed in this than I expected," Santana remarks.

"Anal sex."

"Is that a request? Because I'm not too sure your fathers would be down with that..." she trails off before smirking once more. "Then again..."

Rachel's face washes over in disgust and she slaps Santana's shoulder lightly. "Hey! That is probably _the_ last thing I want to think about." She shakes her head, trying to prevent any potential image from popping up in her mind.

"Hey, you brought it up," Santana shrugs.

"Ho." Rachel says in defeat, her expression dropping into a pout.

Santana starts to laugh at the diva's expression, but it sends her into another coughing fit.

Rachel can't help but laugh silently at the Latina's self-inflicted suffering. Once the girl calms down, Rachel clears her throat lightly and then speaks. "So, you never answered me."

"Well, that's because you interrupted me."

"I did not 'interrupt', I segued into a related topic of conversation," the diva objects.

"So... cheerios and cussing are now 'related topics'?" she teases in amusement. Rachel sighs in frustration and Santana takes the hint, taking a deep breath before speaking. "I don't know, really. I guess when I was younger I did cheering 'cause all my friends were doing it..."

Rachel looks at her with wide eyes. "I didn't peg you as the type to give into peer pressure," she smirks.

Santana rolls her eyes before leaning in and settling back onto Rachel's shoulder. "Hilarious. But yeah, I mean it was a way to spend more time with my friends and even more so just something to do. I've never really _loved_ it or anything like that like some of the girls do..." She pauses to think for a moment again. "I guess I stuck with it because coming into high school it was an easy way to establish some sort of social status. And I still do it because I'm good at it. Like, _really_ good at it. And it keeps me in shape..." she shrugs.

Rachel smiles wide. "So the pros far outweigh the con that is Sue Sylvester, then?" she asks lightly, running her hand through the Latina's hair once more.

"Exactly." Santana nods against her shoulder as the pair settle into silence for a few minutes.

"Douche bag," Rachel breaks the silence softly with a slight smile.

"Twat waffle," Santana responds without lifting her head, a smile playing across her features as well.

"Ass hat."

"Menstrual cup."

Rachel smirks before pulling out her ace in the hole. "Dirty cunt rag."

Santana lifts her head slowly and looks at the diva with wide eyes, completely agape. "Um, so apparently I'm an amateur," she chuckles.

"Just because I'm a diva doesn't mean I can't have substance," Rachel winks.

Santana smiles, "No, I suppose not."

The Latina settles her head back onto the diva's shoulder and Rachel wraps a protective arm around her shoulders. "You know, if I get sick because of this and my voice becomes permanently damaged, not only will you have deprived the general public of a national treasure, but I'm totally going to kill you," she warns playfully.

Santana just rolls her eyes before closing them.

The pair stay in their embrace for a few minutes before the doorbell rings, rousing the cheerleader from her dozing off.

Rachel places a soft kiss on the Latina's forehead before reluctantly standing and heading to the door. Santana follows the girl with her eyes until she disappears from the room. She can hear some of what transpires.

"Daddy!" the diva greets excitedly. "Where's Dad?"

Santana strains to hear the response, Kevin's lower voice being much harder to hear from a distance. She can't make out exactly what's said, but she breathes a sigh of relief as it seems that the stricter of Rachel's fathers is not there.

"So, where's the patient?" she hears Kevin's deep voice clearly for the first time as the pair approach.

"In here," Rachel says succinctly as the pair enter the room. "Daddy, this is Santana," she introduces with a gesture of her arm as Kevin steps forward with his hand extended.

"Hi there, I'm Kevin Berry," the large man greets with a kind smile.

"Hi Mr. Berry," Santana greets with a smile to match, taking the man's hand into her own. "I'm sorry, I'd get up, but..." she gestures blandly with her hand.

Kevin just waves his free hand dismissively. "Don't even worry about it. I'm sorry my husband couldn't be here, he got held up in surgery. I'm not too sure you'll get to meet him tonight," he trails off, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"That's too bad," Santana says half-heartedly, a larger part of her just thankful that she wouldn't be facing her biggest obstacle in her current state. She relinquishes Kevin's hand before speaking again. "I wanted to thank you, so much, for the offer to stay with you guys. I'm not used to taking help... especially from people I don't even know." She darts her eyes down, feeling slightly embarrassed about the whole situation.

"Don't worry about it sweetheart," Kevin says softly with a reassuring smile and shake of his head. "We Berrys don't leave people in distress, and any friend of Rachel's is a friend of the family."

Santana smiles slightly in thanks before glancing around the man's shoulder to Rachel, who smiles and nods at her reassuringly. 'I told you,' she mouths, and Santana rolls her eyes.

Kevin steps back and takes a look around the room. "So, where are your bags?" he asks, causing Santana to look back up at Rachel with wide eyes, the diva's expression matching her own.

"Oh, uh, I guess we didn't really think about that..." Santana trails off, staring nowhere in particular. Now that she _is_ thinking about it she's really wishing she had packed a bag―lest she end up wearing animal-themed outfits for the next couple days.

Kevin turns back towards Rachel with a raised brow.

Rachel smiles sheepishly at her father before looking back over to Santana. "Yeah, I guess I probably should pack some stuff for you," she suggests with a soft smile. She starts towards the hallway, only making it a few paces before turning back around in confusion. "Um, what do you want me to pack? And where can I find a bag?"

Santana looks over at the diva in thought. "I guess you can just use my backpack―which is sitting in the hallway..." she pauses, thinking about what she'd need at the diva's house. "And I guess you can just go through my drawers and find essentials... couple changes of clothes... oh, and in the bathroom, my toothbrush and deodorant and stuff." As she finishes, she realizes how awkward this is going to be for both of them. Rachel's going to be snooping around her room with her permission while she's not even there, going through her underwear, her belongings, everything.

Rachel just nods with an apologetic expression before grabbing the backpack and taking off upstairs, leaving Santana and Kevin alone in the living room.

Kevin is slowly pacing around the room, just surveying his surroundings, as he speaks. "So, Rachel mentioned that you kind of have the run of this place. What's up with your parents? Where are they?" he asks as he pauses and picks up a picture frame, turning towards the girl with a raised eyebrow.

Santana eyes the frame he's holding―knowing the picture inside is one of her and both of her parents at Disney World when she was 7. The one Lopez family photo in existence. She sighs and decides to launch into the short version, slightly wary of the fact that the question is coming from a social worker. "Parents are divorced. Dad lives in Cleveland and my mom's in California on a business trip right now," she explains simply.

Kevin nods in understanding. "Pretty shitty time to get sick, then," he smiles lightly, and Santana raises an eyebrow at the man's choice of words. He shakes his head and chuckles slightly. "I guess Rachel warned you about the whole swearing thing?" he ventures. The Latina nods, and he waves his hand dismissively once more. "Don't worry about that with me. While I don't walk around dropping F bombs all over the place, a good swear is nice every now and then. It's really David that has a big problem with it―even _I_ have to censor myself around him," he smirks.

Santana smiles awkwardly up at the man, not really knowing how to respond.

Kevin places the picture back on top of the entertainment unit before turning to face the Latina again and shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "So, how do you and Rachel know each other, then?"

Santana's smile drops and she clears her throat silently, causing her to cough a couple times before answering. "Well we've been going to school together forever... I just didn't really _know_ her until last year..." As she speaks, she looks anywhere but up at the understandably intimidating man, who happens to be built like a Mack truck. "We're in glee together," she amends, suddenly feeling silly for rambling.

Kevin just nods slightly and the pair settle into an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Rachel comes back into the room, both occupants breathing a sigh of relief at her reappearance.

"Ok!" the diva greets cheerfully. "I think I've got everything we need―and if not, it _is_ my house, I do have possessions that I can lend you." She smiles at Santana reassuringly.

Kevin raises an eyebrow at his daughter and clears his throat pronouncedly. "_Your_ house?" Rachel looks back at her father like a deer in the headlights and Santana smirks. "You're not famous yet, young lady," he teases, causing Rachel to look down in embarrassment.

Santana full-on smiles as she realizes that, regardless of how long it takes, she and Kevin are going to get along just fine.

* * *

**So I thought dream sequences would be a good idea because a) it's a chance to have a little bit of fun, and b) they give insight into some of Santana's insecurities... perhaps some she doesn't even consciously realize she has. Also, I generally have super vivid dreams, and they're only intensified when I'm sick/overly tired, so I thought it would fit :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Guys, I'm totally predicting 3 chapters this week (including Monday's) so yay :D**

**Also, wow. You guys have been super awesome with the nice comments lately. For serious. You make me feel like a 12 year old being chatted up by the chick I have a crush on, blush and all ;)**

* * *

Santana feels ridiculous as Kevin helps her out of the car in the Berry driveway. Though she's glad she's managed to save some face by not having to be literally carried, having to lean her weight onto Kevin as she walks is still quite the hit to her ego. As the large man pulls her up out of her seat he wraps her arm around his shoulders once again, crouching down as he does so as to be closer to the girl's height, and the two start a slow stagger towards the house.

Rachel walks right behind the pair with Santana's backpack and the medicine bags, chuckling to herself at the Latina's stubbornness―though she _is_ technically walking, Kevin is quite obviously (and literally) shouldering all of her weight.

As they reach the door, Rachel jumps in front of the pair and unlocks it, holding it open for the two to squeeze through. "Well, it's not much, but welcome to Casa de Berry!" she smiles, gesturing her arm towards the inside.

Santana smiles at the diva as she and Kevin pass before looking into the house for the first time. She immediately feels a warmth wash over her, not just from the heating in the house but from the atmosphere. Santana's own home is painfully simple: stark white walls and light hardwood floors; very few decorations―the picture frame in the living room being the only real evidence of human life in the house; and, above all else, an overwhelming feeling of both stringency and emptiness. By contrast, the Berry household, even upon first impression, feels like a home. Not just the place where you eat and sleep, but an actual home. The first thing she sees when she looks at the warm-coloured wall of the hallway is a recent family portrait of Rachel and her fathers, and as she looks further down she sees what seems like an endless line of picture frames. That's when it hits her. This is a real family. _This is the shit you see on TV_.

The threesome shuffles further into the house and, as they enter the living room, Kevin eases the Latina off of his shoulder and onto a couch. When he stands back upright, he places a hand on his lower back and lightly groans.

"Sorry," Santana says reflexively as she slides off her jacket, feeling instantly guilty.

Kevin just shakes his head. "Don't even worry about it kiddo, a glass of wine and I'll be good as new," he winks. Santana smiles softly.

Rachel ambles in after the pair, setting the bags down on a chair before taking a seat next to the Latina on the couch.

"So, what do you ladies want for dinner?" Kevin asks as he looks between the two.

"Pizza," Santana replies immediately.

Rachel raises an eyebrow as she turns her head to look at the cheerleader questioningly. "Is that all you ever eat?" she chuckles.

Santana looks back at the diva with her own brow raised. "I defy you to name a better pairing of foods than bread and cheese," she challenges.

Rachel drops her brow and narrows her gaze, "Vegetables and hummus; apples and caramel; peanut butter and jam."

Santana's expression doesn't change as she continues to stare at the diva for a few moments. "Yeah," she shakes her head slightly with a smile. "I rest my case."

Kevin chuckles at the girls' interaction, already starting to think he's going to like the new houseguest. "So..." he starts, drawing the girls' attention once more. "Any conclusion on the dinner front?"

Rachel just rolls her eyes and scoffs, "Fine. You two have pizza―I know _you_ have a few hidden in the freezer that you think I don't know about―" she says pointedly at Kevin, who raises an eyebrow in amusement. "I'll take care of myself," she mumbles with a pout.

"Alright, sounds good to me!" the man answers quickly before turning to leave the room.

Rachel sits agape, staring after her daddy as he retreats through the doorway. Santana just chuckles, causing the diva to turn towards her with an unimpressed glare. "And you," she points. "Don't think that this is going to be an everyday thing."

The Latina raises her brow, "What, getting my way? I'm pretty sure I warned you about that," she winks. "Besides, Kevin didn't seem too broken up about having pizza. I'm sure he's just happy to not be eating rabbit food for once."

Rachel stares at her incredulously, "I'll have you know that there are many food options for vegans that extend beyond your narrow vision of simply fruits and vegetables. And beyond the fact that a vegan diet is significantly healthier, there are also ethical impli―"

Santana rolls her eyes before interrupting. "Rachel!" she says firmly, managing to effectively quiet the diva. "I'm just teasing you. No need to delve into a full-on tirade about the benefits of veganism."

"Fine," Rachel cedes with a heavy sigh as she leans back into the couch and crosses her arms.

Santana feels an itching sensation in her throat once again and tries to clear it, but to no avail. She strains her throat as she speaks. "Do we still have those lozenges?" she looks over to the diva with a pleading smile.

Rachel rolls her eyes before popping up from the couch and retrieving the cough drops from one of the bags. "Here you go, _your majesty_," she snarls as she tosses the package at the Latina.

Santana looks up at the diva's rude tone in slight disbelief. _This girl's fucking crazy._ She makes a mental note to not bring up veganism again since it seems to be a hot-button issue for the diva. For the moment she decides not to say anything at all, rather opening the package and tossing one of the cherry-flavoured drops into her mouth, slightly grimacing at the taste.

Rachel settles back onto the couch and the two sit in an awkward silence for close to five minutes before the diva finally flips on the TV. She turns it to TCM, which happens to be showing a Gene Kelly marathon.

"You know what I always thought would be a pretty cool idea for a mash-up?" Santana breaks the silence. Rachel doesn't respond but does turn her head to look at the cheerleader. "'Singin' in the Rain' and 'Umbrella'."

Rachel just scoffs and turns back to the movie.

Santana continues to stare at the diva wide-eyed in disbelief for a few moments. _Wow, this is going to be an awesome night,_ Santana sighs as she turns to focus on the movie herself.

The pair continues to sit in silence for about 15 minutes, focusing on the movie, before Kevin enters the room with two plates.

"While I'm sure David would generally frown on this, I'd say that given the current circumstances having dinner in the living room is wholly acceptable." He looks up with a smile, but as he does he reads the tension between the two girls and it falters.

"I'm sure Dad would _also_ frown on the fact that that pizza has pork on it," Rachel mumbles loud enough for Kevin to hear.

He frowns and shoots a warning glare at the diva before handing a plate to Santana. "Hope pepperoni's ok," he smiles.

The Latina just smiles and nods in return as she takes the plate.

As Kevin settles into an arm chair, Rachel abruptly stands. "Well, I guess I'll go fix some sort of dinner for _myself_," she laments as she exits the room.

"Make sure you fix your attitude while you're gone, too," Kevin shouts after her. He rolls his eyes with a sigh and looks over to Santana. "So, what'd you manage to do―make fun of her Broadway or make fun of her veganism?"

"The second one..." she trails off, arching an eyebrow. "I take it this is a normal occurrence, then?"

Kevin nods, chewing and swallowing before he speaks again. "Yup. Superstar over there is pretty set in her ways, god forbid anyone challenge her," he chuckles, lightly shaking his head.

Santana smiles in return, knowing exactly what the man is talking about.

"What the hell are we even watching?" Kevin asks with his face screwed as he finally glances over to the television.

"'Singin' in the Rain'," Santana sighs.

"Fuck _that_ noise," the man says with his mouth full, causing Santana to chuckle, as he leans forward to grab the remote control. "'Sportscentre' ok with you?" he asks before flipping over.

The Latina nods. "Sounds great, actually," she replies, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Kevin knowingly smiles and shakes his head. "I know, I know. Not the 'gayest' thing in the world to watch... but, you know what? I like sports. It is what it is," he shrugs.

Santana smiles and takes a bite of her pizza, finally starting to feel relaxed once again.

It's only about 5 minutes of NBA updates later when Rachel ambles back into the living room with a plate of salad. Santana almost snorts her amusement at the fact that the diva's meal choice _is_ quite literally rabbit food, but thinks the better of it. Santana is holding her empty plate in her lap as Kevin moves to stand.

"Want any more?" he asks simply. Santana just shakes her head and the man takes the plate from her hands. "Ok, I'm going to go have some of that wine..." he trails off, observing his uncharacteristically quiet daughter as she settles back onto the couch. "Don't kill each other, please. Or, if you must, just try not to get any blood on the couch." Rachel looks up with a glare and Santana just smiles at him before he leaves the room.

Santana takes a silent breath to prepare herself before chancing a glance over at the diva. She immediately feels relieved as she notices the girl's posture has relaxed significantly.

"I'm sorry," Rachel nearly mumbles without looking up from her plate. Santana doesn't respond but simply raises an eyebrow. Rachel takes a deep breath before continuing. "I get a lot of flak for being a vegan." She swallows a mouthful of her food as well as her pride before she speaks again. "It's possible that I may have taken it out on the wrong person."

Santana considers a snide 'it's possible?' or 'may have?' in response, but decides to bite her tongue. She sighs and looks over to the diva once more. "It's ok."

Rachel looks up for the first time, an eyebrow raised in surprise, "Really? You're gonna let me off the hook that easy?" Santana just shrugs and nods before turning her attention back to the TV. Rachel continues to look at her in slight amazement for a couple moments before looking back down at her plate. "Softy," she mumbles, a smile playing across her features as she takes another bite.

Santana just rolls her eyes and slightly shakes her head as she leans back into the couch with a yawn.

"Tired?" Rachel ventures between bites of her salad.

"Yeah," the Latina yawns. "Which is amazing considering I slept most of the day."

Rachel just nods. "Ok. Once I finish this," she gestures her fork to her plate. "We'll get you settled into the guestroom." She smiles at the cheerleader briefly before looking back at her food sheepishly. "It's right next to my room, so if you need anything... you know... whatever it is... I'm right there..." she trails off, silencing herself with another mouthful of greens.

Santana looks up at the diva with a smile. "Good."

* * *

Santana sighs in contentment as she finally settles into the middle of the bed in the guestroom. She had failed to consider the logistics of getting upstairs and, despite her initial objections, had no choice but to cede when Kevin offered to carry her up. She rolls onto her back and links her hands behind her head as she lets her eyes drift closed. _It's definitely nicer than mom's house_.

She's not sure how long she drifts off for, but she finds herself feeling incredibly groggy when she hears a light knock at the door. She looks up to see Rachel's head pop in.

"Hey," the diva greets softly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm alright," the Latina croaks out, the dryness in her throat threatening to cause another coughing fit.

Rachel looks at her pointedly with an unimpressed glare, as if reading that the cheerleader is lying. "Do you need anything?" she asks, giving the Latina an out. Santana doesn't say anything and Rachel simply sighs before leaving the room and clicking the door shut.

Santana looks at the door in disbelief, amazed that the diva relented so easily. She lets her eyes drift shut once more, only waking with a start when she feels the weight of the mattress shift. She immediately sits upright, raising a hand to her head as she does.

"Fuck," she mutters, trying to keep the spinning under control. She hears a chuckle next to her and it's only once she centres herself and finally looks over that she sees Rachel sitting on the edge of the bed, a look of amusement playing across her features.

"Good morning," the diva greets with a smirk, holding out a mug in her hands.

"Morning?.?" Santana questions, looking at the window only to see that it's still dark out.

Rachel chuckles in amusement. "It's only been 5 minutes, Santana."

Santana raises an eyebrow but takes the mug from Rachel's hands, the telling scent of Neo-Citron wafting into her nostrils as she does. She blows on the hot liquid before taking a careful sip, immediately deciding that it's still too hot. She leans over and places the mug down on the nightstand before turning back to the diva with a questioning expression.

"Your throat," Rachel responds simply, causing the Latina to stare at her even more discerningly. "Well, the coughing, the talking like a pack-a-day smoker... I assumed a warm beverage was in order. The fact that it's medicated is just a bonus," she smiles.

Santana's expression softens. "Thanks," she breathes out as she closes her eyes and lies back down on the bed. "I don't even know how I got sick... I _never_ get sick..." she laments, raising an arm to rest on her forehead.

Rachel pulls a leg up onto the bed and shifts to better face the Latina with a dropped brow. "Well, maybe it's because you spent a good portion of Puck's party outside in that flimsy, cow-corpse jacket," she half-mumbles, her eyes on her lap.

Santana opens her eyes and turns her head slightly to look up at the diva, an amused smile on her face. "You've been holding on to that one since Saturday, haven't you?"

Rachel just blushes and looks down, causing Santana to smile further and shake her head.

A lull in conversation settles between the two until Rachel clears her throat and reaches down to the floor beside the bed. Santana can hear some rustling before the diva turns back with a pile of textbooks and notebooks in her hands. The Latina slowly sits up, looking from the books to Rachel with a questioning eyebrow.

Rachel smiles softly, "I packed your school stuff. I thought you might actually need it."

Santana just rolls her eyes lightly, taking the pile from the diva and placing it down on the other side of the bed. As she leans over she retrieves the mug from the table and takes a few sips as she turns back towards the diva. Rachel is staring at her with a bit of amazement and the Latina quickly starts to feel uncomfortable under her gaze. "What?" she asks simply.

"I had no idea you were in AP physics..." Rachel remarks with an impressed tone. "_And _pre-calc..."

"Didn't see that coming, huh?" she chuckles, coughing slightly as she does but drowning it with another sip of the medicated liquid.

Rachel's expression shifts and Santana can see her mentally backtracking. She puts the mug back down on the table before shaking her head and reaching a hand out to take one of the diva's into her own.

"Don't worry about it," she strains out, clearing her throat before speaking again. "I'm not expected to be smart. I'm expected to be good at cheerleading and looking good, and mediocre at everything else... just like everyone else on the squad... except maybe Quinn..." she adds thoughtfully.

Rachel nods slightly in agreement.

"I still can't believe you called her," the Latina remarks with an amused tone, running her thumb across the back of the diva's hand in a comforting motion.

The diva looks up at her with wide eyes for a few moments before looking down in complete embarrassment. "She told you about that?" she asks softly.

Santana slightly laughs before answering simply, "Yup."

Rachel keeps her eyes down, the blush of embarrassment still across her cheeks. "I'm surprised she even answered..." she trails off.

"I'm not," the Latina responds simply, causing Rachel to look up at her questioningly. "She's not as mean as she seems... most of the time..." she trails off, lifting their hands up between them, playing with their configuration.

"She managed to make a good portion of _my_ life a living hell..." the diva mumbles.

Santana stills their hands and looks up at the diva with a stern expression. "You know that was all just for show, right?" The diva rolls her eyes, but also nods. "Not to mention she's a lot different now that she's become our class's cautionary tale..."

Rachel continues nodding. "I know," she affirms softly.

Santana lies back onto the bed, but this time tugs on Rachel's hand to join her. Rachel pulls out of the Latina's grasp to climb onto the bed and orient herself next to the cheerleader, reflexively rolling to rest her head on the girl's shoulder. Santana lets her arm wrap around the diva's torso and her head sink back into the pillow.

"Fuck Quinn anyway," Santana says simply as she stares at the ceiling, figuring a change of topic is in order.

"I don't really want to..." Rachel trails off in a teasing tone as she moves a hand to rest on the Latina's stomach.

Santana just chuckles as her eyes drift shut once more. "So, what else did you pack for me?" she inquires with a yawn.

Rachel smiles against the Latina's shoulder as she draws lazy patterns on the girl's stomach. "Just a couple t-shirts, pairs of shorts, a hoodie, um... some underwear and stuff..." she trails off with a blush, happy that the Latina can't see her face at the moment. Santana smiles, though, sensing the girl's embarrassment. "Deodorant, toothbrush... basically just what you asked for. Oh, and your phone charger." Rachel pauses for a couple more seconds before shifting and propping her head up on one of her hands. "Are you aware that close to 90% of your wardrobe is black?"

Santana lightly chuckles before opening her eyes and looking up at the diva. "Are you saying there's something wrong with black clothes?"

The brunette rolls her eyes, "Well, they're a little dark, no?"

"You racist," the Latina deadpans.

Rachel's eyes widen and her posture stiffens at the remark, and Santana can see that she's mentally backtracking once again.

"Rach," she says tiredly, using her free hand to take the diva's into her own. "You need to realize that 95% of the time I'm just teasing you. If I seriously thought you were a racist, I would've called you out on it a _long_ time ago," she smiles sincerely up at the girl. "Not to mention, I'm sure Kevin would have a _much_ larger problem with your racist tendencies than I would..." she smirks.

Rachel rolls her eyes but visibly relaxes and drops her head back onto Santana's shoulder, the Latina resuming her hold around the diva.

"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes, you know?" Rachel mumbles against Santana's shoulder.

The Latina just scoffs as she relaxes back into the pillow with her eyes closed. "You love it."

* * *

When Santana opens her eyes again, the room is dark except for the morning sunlight starting to trickle in through the blinds. She rolls to her side to check the time only to find that there's no alarm clock where hers usually is. She raises herself to her elbows and observes her surroundings, remembering for the first time that she's not in her own house as she does. She lies back down with a yawn, but she doesn't manage to fall back asleep before a knock comes on the door.

She rolls towards the noise and the door opens slightly before Rachel's head pops in.

"Hey," the diva greets softly. "I'm about to take off for school."

Santana doesn't respond, but yawns and nods at the girl.

The diva enters and takes a seat on the side of the bed, placing a glass of water and a canister of pills on the night table before turning towards the Latina. She reaches down and brushes a few stray hairs out of Santana's face, "Make sure you take two of those when you get up. My dads have already gone to work, but Daddy should be home by lunchtime, so you won't have to fend for yourself for very long."

Santana just smiles up at the diva, who places a kiss on her forehead before standing once again.

"I'll be home by 4," she smiles before leaving the room.

Santana just stretches her body out across the bed before relaxing and letting her eyes drift shut once again.

* * *

She wakes to a knock on the door, rolling instinctively to check the time and finding once again that there's no clock. She clears her throat before rolling towards the door, "Come in."

It's Kevin who sticks his head slightly in the door. "Hey sicky," he greets with a soft smile. "How are you feeling today?"

Santana yawns before answering, "Better than yesterday."

The man smiles further, "Good to hear. You had anything to eat yet?"

Santana smiles sheepishly and shakes her head.

"Ok, how do you feel about chicken noodle soup? I know we've got some of that stashed away for such an occasion..."

The Latina simply nods with a smile. "Thanks."

"No worries, kiddo," Kevin says simply. "Need anything else?" Santana just shakes her head and the man nods. "Ok, back in a flash."

With that he disappears out of the room, closing the door once more. Santana reaches out in a stretch before slowly sitting up. She looks over at the nightstand and sees the medication and water, taking the pills and setting the glass back on the table before stretching her arms above her head with a yawn. When she brings her arms back down, she reaches back to the nightstand and grabs her phone, deciding to both check the time, 12:17, and send Rachel a text.

'So, Kevin's kind of awesome :)' she quickly taps out. She re-reads it with a smile before hitting send and placing the phone down on the mattress.

A sudden urge passes through her and she decides she'd better get up and go pee. She finds standing to be much easier than she had anticipated and feels elated at this development. She grabs a change of clothes and some toiletries from her bag before heading off to the washroom.

When she exits the bathroom, Kevin is just making his way up the stairs with a bowl of soup, some toast, and a cup of tea on a lap tray. He stops between steps as he notices the Latina at the top of the stairwell.

"Holy shit, it walks," he remarks amusedly.

Santana rolls her eyes and chuckles as she heads back into the room with Kevin following close behind. She throws her dirty clothes into her bag before settling back onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard. Kevin places the tray over her lap and she genuinely smiles up at the man. "Thank you."

He just shakes his head with a smile. An awkward silence settles between the two before Kevin speaks. "So..." he rubs his hands together. "I guess I'll leave you to it." He turns to leave.

"You can stay, if you'd like," Santana offers sincerely. The two seemed to be getting along in general and she figures it wouldn't hurt to put in some groundwork with her new girlfriend's father.

The large man turns back with a smile and paces over to the desk chair to take a seat facing the Latina. "Sorry we don't have many meat-eating options as far as food is concerned. You just write up a list and I'll take Rachel grocery shopping this afternoon so we can grab some food you actually eat," he smiles.

Santana's eyes widen. "Oh, you don't have to do that. I'm not all that picky," she shrugs.

Kevin shakes his head once more. "By resisting you're making more of a fuss than by obliging," he chuckles. "And besides, I'll be more than happy to bring some dead animals and animal products into this house again," he smiles. Santana can't help but chuckle.

Another silence settles between the two, but a slightly less awkward one this time as the Latina starts to work on her soup.

"So how long's your mom gone for?" the man asks innocently enough, but it causes Santana to nearly choke on her soup.

She clears her throat before speaking. "Um, that's not entirely clear yet," she says honestly, trying to decide how best to bend the truth. "I suppose it depends on how long the company needs her over there." _Ha, 'company'._ She sighs internally.

"Does she go on business trips a lot?"

Santana looks up at the man, wondering if a bit of the social worker is seeping into the personal. "Actually no, this is the first trip she's gone on in a while..." It's the truth, and Kevin nods in acceptance.

"And you said your dad lives in Cleveland?"

Santana nods, taking a bite of toast.

"Do you see him very often?"

Santana's expression drops, and she's sure Kevin must see the shift. "Actually no," she starts, placing the toast back down and taking a sip of tea before continuing. "I haven't seen him in... 3 years, I think?" she guesses.

The man nods and slightly frowns. "Shitty." He clasps his hands in his lap as he leans further back into the chair. "Messy divorce?" he ventures.

Santana shrugs, "Messy enough."

Kevin sighs. "Sometimes I think it's really unfortunate that we can't choose the family we're born into. Some incredibly wonderful people get a much rougher ride than they deserve," he offers sincerely with a soft smile. "Then again, one could easily argue that it's those tougher moments that build character and, ultimately, make those people so wonderful."

Santana looks over at the man with a slight smile. "I hope you're not charging me for this," she teases.

Kevin looks back with an amused expression and a raised eyebrow. "Bill's in the mail," he responds playfully.

Santana smirks, "So's the cheque."

Kevin laughs heartily for a few moments before looking down at his watch, his expression dropping as he does so. He sighs as he stands up. "Well, I've actually got some files to go through, so I'd better get to it before Hurricane Rachel gets home," he smiles.

Santana smiles in return, "Thanks again, Mr. Berry."

He waves his hand dismissively but then grows slightly serious. "My office is directly below this room, so, if you need anything... I guess you can just throw your bowl at the floor or something," he shrugs. Santana can't help but chuckle again.

It's only once the man leaves that Santana feels her phone vibrate beneath her thigh. It makes her slightly jump and nearly spill the collection of steaming liquids on the tray all over herself and the bed. She carefully stands with the tray and carries it over to the desk at the side of the room before walking back to the bed and retrieving her phone.

'I told you :P' the simple response from Rachel reads.

Santana rolls her eyes and clicks out a reply, 'You just love being right, don't you?'

The next response comes almost immediately, 'Maybe... ;) How are you feeling?'

She smiles as she writes. 'A million percent better, easily.'

'Right. Stay in bed and have fluids.' Santana can almost sense Rachel's eye roll and serious tone via text message.

'Thanks mom. Go to class.' She smirks as she hits send.

* * *

**Sorry for the shortness. Lots of filler and some character development. Likely more of the same next chapter :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: What a crazy week. I totally thought I was going to have zero time to write, but my procrastination skills have managed to astound me. Of course this means that next week is going to be the bane of my existence, academically, but I can totally live with that :)**

**Oh, and if you're at all curious about our timeline in this story, I totally mathed this shit out. As of this chapter we're about three and a half weeks past Sectionals (the beginning of the story) and, calendar-wise, we're about a week into December.**

**/geekingout**

* * *

It's just before 4 when Santana hears commotion downstairs, assuming that 'Hurricane Rachel' has rolled in. She smiles but slightly rushes as she closes her physics books and gets up from the desk chair, making a swan dive towards the bed as she hears hurried footsteps coming up the stairs. She quickly pulls the covers up over her head just in time for the knock at the door.

"Hm?" she voices in mock tiredness. She hears the door creek open and turns around to see the diva's head peeking in the door.

"Hey there," the brunette greets softly. "Can I come in?"

Santana sits up and nods, gesturing to the edge of the bed with her hand.

Rachel sits and takes the Latina's hand into her own, bringing it up to place a soft kiss on it. Santana reflexively smiles at the contact.

"How are you feeling?" the diva asks sincerely, looking at the Latina with a concerned expression.

Santana smiles, "Despite your _objections_... as I told you earlier, I'm actually feeling pretty good."

Rachel smiles sheepishly in return. "I assumed you were just being stubborn." She pauses before slightly smirking, "Which isn't really _that_ farfetched of an assumption..."

Santana rolls her eyes and looks down at their hands as the pair settle into silence.

After about a minute, Santana can hear that Rachel's breathing has shifted and she looks up at the girl to see a look of hesitance.

"What is it?" she hazards, gently squeezing the diva's hand with her own.

"Well..." the girl starts, her voice slightly shaky. "I kind of came to a decision today after talking with Kurt and Mercedes."

Santana's eyes widen as she remembers Saturday a little more clearly. They had essentially been caught in the throes by the gossipy duo. Her mind starts racing as she wonders how much of their laundry has been aired out to the WMHS populace in 2 days. She clears her throat, "Ok?"

"Well, they said they're not going to tell anyone." Santana lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding in her relief. "But..." Rachel continues warily, looking up at the Latina. "I'm thinking that trusting Kurt and Mercedes to keep a secret is like trusting Puck to keep his hands to himself."

Santana nods slightly and lets out an exhausted sigh. "So, what's the plan now, then?"

"Well, and of course this will only be the plan if you agree to it as such," she pauses. "I was thinking that we should probably tell people directly rather than have it come from someone else."

Santana raises an eyebrow, "_Tell_ people. Like who?"

"Oh, just glee pretty much." Santana breathes a sigh of relief. "And... my dads."

Santana's eyes widen as she looks at the diva, slightly agape. She closes her mouth and swallows the lump in her throat before speaking again. "Ok... so, when?"

Rachel looks down at their joined hands as she speaks. "Well, as far as glee is concerned, I'm sure a few people already have an idea..." Santana nods her head, knowing that at least half of the club has a pretty good grasp of what's going on. "So that shouldn't be that big of a deal. We'll take care of that when you get back to school." Santana nods in agreement. "As for my dads..." she trails off, looking up at the Latina uncertainly and raising their hands to her lips once more before speaking. "I was thinking tonight."

Santana's eyes almost bulge out of her head. "Tonight?.!" she chokes out. Rachel just nods, and Santana slowly nods her own head, dropping her gaze to her lap as she thinks it through. When she meets the diva's eyes once more, the girl is still staring at her uncertainly. "Ok," she says softly.

"Ok?" Rachel echoes in surprise.

"Yeah... I think that'll be fine," the Latina smiles softly as she comes to the realization herself.

Rachel's mouth spreads into a large smile but slowly, over time, starts to recede back into a thin line as she casts her gaze downward.

"You're worried," Santana's observes, pulling the diva from her thoughts.

"Hm?" the brunette looks up.

"You're worried about how your dads are going to react to your homosexy tendencies," the cheerleader deadpans.

A small smile crosses Rachel's face before she slips back into thought.

"Hey," Santana nudges the girl lightly. "Don't be too worried. Kevin totally joined the fan club today," she winks. Rachel smirks, but it doesn't last long. Santana sighs as a sudden, not-so-pleasant realization washes over her. "Did you talk to your other dad last night?"

"David," the diva corrects absently. "Yeah, he got home around 10. We talked. He's not exactly _crazy_ about the idea that you're here..." she trails off, looking at the Latina apologetically.

Santana just nods her head and stares ahead blankly. "Ok..." she pauses to think. "Any idea what time he's gonna be home?"

"Well, he's not on call tonight, so he should be home around... 7, I'd guess."

The Latina looks down at their hands. "Ok. Well, I suggest we do the meet-n-greet first... and then maybe break the news after dinner?" she looks back up with a raised eyebrow.

Rachel nods but doesn't look up. "I think that's a really good idea."

"Hey," Santana says softly, raising her other hand to the diva's cheek. "Don't even worry about it. We'll do it together." She says it confidently. If there's one thing Santana's always been good at, it's charming authority figures. _I mean, he can only be so bad, right?_

Rachel looks up with the brightest smile Santana's seen all afternoon. "Ok," she nods emphatically.

"Well, ok then," Santana smiles as she leans forward to kiss the girl's forehead in reassurance. When she leans back once more Rachel's smile has spread even further.

"So..." the diva starts jovially. "_You_ need to write me a list of things you want from the grocery store." Santana can tell she's shifted into a much lighter mood already. "Daddy said we're going shopping."

The Latina shrugs, "Whatever is fine. Just let your dad pick, I already told him I'm not all that picky."

Rachel narrows her gaze, "Just give me _something_ so he doesn't give me a hard time about it."

Santana rolls her eyes, "Fine. Meat. And apples."

"That's it?" the diva asks with a raised eyebrow.

Santana just nods.

Rachel rolls her eyes and sighs. "Fine. I think we're going pretty much now... we shouldn't be much more than an hour."

With that Rachel stands, but Santana pulls her back by her hand. Rachel stumbles unceremoniously onto the bed and almost onto the Latina's lap, causing Santana to chuckle aloud.

"Why, hello," she greets smugly, only to be met by another roll of the eyes from the diva.

"Santana..." the girl whines as she sits back up on the edge of the bed.

"Just wanted a kiss before you go," the Latina pouts.

Rachel drops her brow. "You're sick. And I'm not all that into disease..."

Santana just smiles before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on the diva's cheek. Rachel reflexively smiles, but steels herself as the cheerleader pulls away again.

"So... can I go now?" she draws out in mock annoyance.

Santana chuckles softly, "Well I'd prefer if you didn't, but if you must..."

Rachel can't help the smile that crosses her face at the Latina's reluctance to let her go. The smile stays with her as she stands and exits the room, feeling like nothing can bring them down.

* * *

Santana spends the next hour poring over her physics homework again. Her attention is only pulled away when she hears the front door open and shut. She hops up from her seat and heads towards the door, excited to see what kind of food the pair have come home with. If there's one sure sign that she's getting better, it's that her appetite is back in full force.

When she gets out into the hallway and peers downstairs, she's surprised to see someone she doesn't recognize: a shorter, small-set man with a balding head and glasses. Realization washes over Santana and she internally panics. She considers a hasty retreat, but as she does the man looks up at her. _Fuck_.

"Oh. You." he says flatly as he slides off his jacket. He turns briefly to hang it in the hall closet before turning to look up at the Latina once again. "You must be Santana." He pastes on a kind smile, but Santana can see right through it―even from a distance.

Santana could kick herself for not waiting in the room, but in her current predicament she sees only one option: she lets her mouth spread into her best photo-worthy smile and starts down the stairs. "Yes, hello," she greets awkwardly as she works her way down the steps. "You must be the other Mr. Berry, then," she observes lamely as she reaches the landing. She extends her hand to the man.

He looks at it warily for a moment before taking it into his own and delivering what Santana feels is an overly firm handshake. "Nice to meet you," he forces out.

Santana nods, "You too," but internally sighs as she realizes this is going to be an uphill battle. Rachel definitely did not exaggerate about her father's disapproval of her presence. Her face starts to hurt, but she refuses to drop her smile.

David finally relinquishes the girl's hand before glancing around. "So..." he starts with an annoyed sigh. "Where are Kevin and Rachel?"

"Oh, they went grocery shopping," she explains simply. "I was just coming downstairs to see whether I could help them put things away or anything..."

The man nods and adjusts his glasses before raising an eyebrow and staring discriminatingly at the girl. "You seem awfully spry for someone I was told is bedridden."

"Yeah..." Santana starts lamely, her smile faltering as she looks down at her hands―which are now wringing together in nervousness. "Medication is a wonderful thing..." she nearly mumbles.

David continues to stare at her discerningly for a moment before both their attentions are drawn to a ringing.

Santana reaches into her pocket and grabs her phone, looking at the caller ID to see Rachel's name. She smiles slightly in relief, trying to hide it from the man in front of her. _Saved by the motherfucking bell._

She lifts her head and looks over to David, who is still staring at her. "Sorry, I'll have to take this call." David just nods and Santana takes it as her cue to leave.

She quietly answers the call as she turns away, "Hey, hold on a sec."

She rushes up the stairs and into her room without chancing a glance back at the small, angry man, feeling immediate relief once she closes the door behind her. She breathes out a heavy sigh before bringing the phone to her ear once more.

"Hey," she smiles into the handset. "What's up?"

"Hey, I didn't wake you, did I?"

Santana rolls her eyes, "No, actually. I just met your dad."

Rachel doesn't respond.

"Hello?"

"Yeah," the diva finally breathes out. "Sorry, just recovering from a minor coronary in aisle one."

Santana chuckles.

The diva clears her throat, "So yes, as I predicted, daddy does not think that your grocery list is adequate. So what else do you want?"

Santana screws her face in thought and shrugs, as if the diva would see her, "I really don't care."

Rachel sighs heavily into the receiver. "Ok, I'm in the produce section, so what about fruits? Are there any other fruits you like?"

"Oranges." Santana responds simply.

"We already have those at the house."

"Alright..." the Latina pauses in thought before smiling. "I really like berries."

"Ok..." Rachel trails off, obviously heading to the appropriate section. "What kind of berries?"

The Latina smirks into the receiver, "Rachel Berrys."

Santana can almost feel Rachel's eye roll over the phone but relishes the slight chuckle she hears come from the diva.

Rachel clears her throat. "Ok, seriously though, last chance... any other requests?"

Santana thinks for a minute, but truth be told she couldn't care less. She just wants Rachel back in the house so she doesn't have to hide from the big bad wolf downstairs. "Nah, just get whatever you want and say I wanted it."

"Alright then," the diva cedes with a sigh. "We'll be home in 20."

Santana smiles against the handset, "Good." She breathes a sigh of relief.

They end the call and Santana tosses her phone onto the bed before ambling back over to the desk, falling heavily into the chair. She stares blankly at her books for about 5 minutes before realizing that no more work is going to happen at the moment. She closes them up and packs them back into her bag.

As she stands back up she finds herself at a complete loss as to what to do. She glances around the room. _No TV, no computer..._ She stares at her phone for a while before sitting on the bed and taking the device into her hands.

'Hit a roadblock. Her dad HATES me.' She taps out before hitting send.

She takes the phone with her as she walks over to the window and pulls open the blinds, looking into the Berry backyard for the first time. Her mouth drops open as she sees the light blanket of snow on the ground. _Holy fuck, when did that happen?_ Her attention is pulled back to her phone as it vibrates in her hand. She brings it up to read Quinn's reply.

'You met her dad?.?'

Santana is surprised. _Apparently Rachel hasn't told anyone I'm here_... 'Um, yeah... Both her dads, actually... Rachel kind of kidnapped me and I'm kind of staying at her house at the moment.'

'No way. How is it?'

Santana rolls her eyes. 'Ok in general. Rachel and her 'daddy' are pretty much waiting on me hand and foot.'

'Um, can I come too?'

Santana laughs at the response. 'Not unless you want to meet the wall - a.k.a. Rachel's 'dad' a.k.a. the man who hates my life.'

'Why the hate-on?'

'No idea.' Santana types, but she quickly deletes it as she thinks about it again. 'Slushies, torture, you know, all the good stuff.'

She sends the message before glancing outside again, noticing how beautiful the scene looks with the setting sun reflecting off of a veritable winter wonderland. Suddenly Santana has the urge to go play in the snow like a five year old. She smiles briefly before her phone vibrates again.

'Shitty. Guess he'd hate me too...' comes Quinn's reply.

Santana chuckles as she drops into the desk chair once more, spinning it so that she can recline and rest her feet on the bed. 'Lol probably. How's school been?'

'Oh, you know. Same old...' comes a quick reply, which is immediately followed by another. 'Except... do Kurcedes have any idea what's going on with you two? They've been acting reeeaaally weird this week, especially around Rachel.'

Santana worries her lip between her teeth as she reads the message and types her reply. 'Well, they know Something's going on... they kind of caught us making out at Puck's party...'

'NO. WAY.'

Santana chuckles, 'I know right?'

'I'm honestly surprised the entire school doesn't know already...'

'Yeah... apparently they told Rachel they're going to keep it a secret.'

'Um... you DO know we're talking about Kurt Hummel and Mercedes Jones, right?'

Santana laughs lightly. 'Yeah, I think once I rejoin the living we're gonna tell the gleeks.'

'How do you think Finnessa's gonna take it?'

Santana's brow furrows. 'Fuck Frankenteen. He missed his chance. I honestly couldn't care less about his opinion.' As she thinks about it further, though, Santana grows slightly worried and types out a quick second message. 'Do you think he'd try anything?'

'I really don't know. Half of me thinks he'll just roll over, the other half thinks he's gonna try to be all white knight and shit.'

Santana groans audibly, hoping it won't be the latter. As her mind races, another text from the blonde comes in.

'What about her dads? Do they know?'

The Latina groans again. 'They don't know yet, but apparently we're going to tell them... Tonight.'

'Kamikaze.'

She smirks. 'Pretty much.'

* * *

After an entirely awkward dinner with very little conversational input from David, Rachel and Santana settle onto the couch in the living room.

"So... you sure you're ready for this?" Santana asks, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart beating a mile a minute.

Rachel looks over hesitantly but nods her head. "Might as well get it out of the way, right?" she chuckles awkwardly.

Santana sighs deeply and slowly nods back.

Rachel stands and heads to the doorway. "Dad! Daddy! Could you two please come in here for a minute!" she shouts down the hall before coming back and settling next to Santana on the couch once more.

David comes in first with an eyebrow raised and Kevin follows shortly behind, looking nothing if not equally confused.

"Please take a seat," the diva gestures to an armchair.

Santana's heart is already in her throat as David slides into the chair and Kevin takes a seat on its arm.

"What is it, honey?" the larger man asks softly, obvious concern in his voice.

"Dad, Daddy," she starts with a slightly shaky voice, chancing glances at them both before looking down. She takes a deep breath and releases it as a long sigh before continuing. "There's something I need to tell you... about me and Santana." She reaches over and takes the Latina's hand into her own, causing Kevin to slightly smirk and David's face to completely drop.

David takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Santana and I are in a relationship."

"No." David says firmly, his tone causing Santana to shift uncomfortably.

"Yes, dad." Rachel echoes the man's tone.

"How long has this been going on?" Kevin asks lightly and with genuine curiousity as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Rachel opens her mouth slightly but hesitates at the look that David is giving her. Santana notices and can't help but rescue the girl.

"Well, technically only since Saturday," she explains, drawing a pronounced scoff from the bespectacled man. "But we've been kind of dancing around it for a couple weeks now."

Kevin nods as he digests the words and David just raises a hand to his forehead, hoping against hope that this is all just a bad dream.

Santana squeezes Rachel's hand, trying to lend her the confidence to speak. The diva turns her head to smile at the girl before looking back to her fathers. "We'd really appreciate your support."

"_Support_!" David scoffs through laughter, completely lost in disbelief. "Since when are you _gay_?"

Rachel looks down in shame and Santana pulls her hand out of the diva's grasp so that she can run it reassuringly along her back.

Kevin looks at the smaller man with a bit of a glare before turning back towards his daughter. "Rachel..." he draws out. "Isn't this all, well, a bit _sudden_?"

Rachel opens her mouth to speak, but David just shakes his head.

"No." He repeats. "This is not happening. Not under my roof." He stands abruptly. "That _girl_," he spits out. "Is going home tomorrow. I've had enough of this farce." He starts towards the hallway.

Kevin grabs the man's hand, causing him to turn back around. "David, she's still sick. We can't send her back to her house all by herself..." he pleads with his eyes as much as his words.

Santana is shocked as David's face seems to slightly soften for the first time. He groans as he collapses back onto the chair, looking up at Kevin. "So what then," he starts gently. "You're ok with this little sideshow?"

Kevin sighs heavily, "Baby, Rachel is a grown-ass woman." David's face slightly twists at his choice of words, causing him to roll his eyes. "Point is, even if we don't agree with who she chooses to date, she's going to make her own decisions. Stepping all over her toes is just going to push her away. Is that really what you want to do to our daughter? Our daughter who gets straight A's and is pretty much the model child?" As he finishes, he looks over at the two girls with a wink and a soft smile.

David scoffs. "Well, I'd rather protect our daughter from someone we _know_ has made the majority of her life a complete and utter nightmare." At this he leans forward in his seat and turns his gaze to Santana. "What are you playing at here?"

Everyone turns their attention to the girl and she hesitates, feeling highly uncomfortable under their collective gaze.

David scoffs once more, gesturing an arm at the Latina as he leans back again, "Girl doesn't even have an answer."

Santana drops her gaze to her lap as the man speaks. _This was pretty much the worst idea ever._

"That's about enough." Rachel says firmly as she stands. Santana looks back up, eyes wide in surprise.

"Rachel, this is ridiculous," David starts. "I raised you better than this," he shakes his head in disappointment.

Rachel absolutely glares at her dad as she speaks. "You raised me not to judge people. You raised me to be the bigger person when someone's being an asshole―"

"Rachel," Kevin chides the diva's language.

Rachel just raises a finger and continues, keeping her gaze fixed on David. "You raised me to give people the benefit of the doubt, and to believe that people can change for the better."

David crosses his arms across his chest. "Two weeks of 'new and improved' does _not_ erase ten years of a _terrible human being_." He says the last three words pointedly at the Latina.

Santana shrinks even further into the couch.

Rachel shakes her head incredulously, "But most of all? You raised me to accept that people have flaws. You raised me to have humility and to be forgiving of others. It's only now I see that I'm the only one who has grown to adopt these values and that _you_, dad, are the farce."

Rachel storms out of the room, having spoken her piece, leaving a slightly terrified Santana still seated on the couch, eyes wide. _Well... what the fuck now?_ She wonders as she stares at the doorway that the diva just left through.

Kevin raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and he speaks softly. "Santana, if you want to go after her I think that'd be for the best. I think David and I are going to have to have a conversation." He lifts his head and smiles at the Latina before turning back to the man in the chair with a pointed glare.

Santana doesn't wait an extra second. She immediately stands and walks calmly out of the room before bolting up the stairs and into the guestroom―where it seems the diva has retreated.

She closes the door behind her and makes for the bed. She lets out the biggest sigh of her life as she collapses backwards onto the soft fabric. "So that was fun," she remarks with a bit of an exhausted chuckle.

Rachel stays silent as she paces the room, obviously incredibly upset about the scene that just played out.

Santana rolls onto her side and rests her head on her hand, watching the diva as she burns a path into the carpet. "Well, I guess we can rule out your dads joining you at PFLAG meetings..." she shrugs.

Rachel stops her pacing and looks over at the Latina with a bit of a smile. It makes Santana smile too. She reaches her hand out to grab the diva's, tugging her to take a seat on the bed. Rachel does sit down and Santana immediately slides over to rest her head in the girl's lap.

"You know, for a doctor, your dad doesn't have the greatest bedside manner."

Rachel sighs as she runs her fingers through the Latina's hair. "Yeah. That's why he's a surgeon. He doesn't talk to people, he just cuts them open."

Santana's face screws slightly. "Ok, that's like hella morbid."

Suddenly there's a knock at the door and Santana shoots up into a sitting position, raising a hand to her spinning head as she does.

Kevin sticks his head in the door. "Hey," he greets softly. "Can I talk to you girls for a minute?"

Rachel stands and turns her back to the man. "I don't know that I want to talk to you right now."

Kevin sighs but enters the room anyway, closing the door behind him and leaning his weight onto it. "Rachel, honey, you know we're just looking out for you."

Rachel spins towards the man with an angry glare. "So you're 'looking out for me' by trying to keep me miserable?" she asks in disbelief.

Kevin shoots Santana a pleading look and she sends an apologetic smile in return. She sighs as she realizes that the man in the room is feeling just as shitty about the situation at hand as she is.

"Rach," she starts softly, reaching out a hand to touch the diva's arm.

"Santana, stay out of this," the girl says firmly with a quick warning glance down at the Latina.

Santana shakes her head, "Rachel, you're being unreasonable."

The diva turns her glare from her father to the girl on the bed. "_Excuse_ me?"

"Kevin was pretty clearly defending us out there. Don't take your anger out on him." Santana explains calmly.

Rachel sighs in frustration and falls to take a seat next to the Latina on the bed once again, dropping her head onto the girl's shoulder.

Santana looks briefly up at Kevin, who smiles his thanks, before turning her attention back to the girl on her shoulder. She slides an arm around the diva's torso and leans down to kiss the top of her head.

Kevin sighs, drawing the girls' attention back up to him. "Just for the record, even from what I've seen these past two days, I believe you." He smiles softly at Santana. "David will get there... eventually. It'll just take time. Rachel didn't get her stubbornness out of thin air, you know," he adds with a wink.

Santana smirks and Rachel just rolls her eyes and lightly groans against the Latina's shoulder.

"However," Kevin continues, casting his stare to the ground. "Given that you two _are_ a couple, we _are_ going to have to set some ground rules..." He looks back up. "Especially while Santana is still staying here."

Santana nods at the man and Rachel just stays buried in her shoulder.

Kevin sighs once more before bringing a hand up to his forehead. "Ok, first of all..." he averts his stare to the wall. "Are you two having sex?"

Santana's eyes bulge as she looks away with an amused smirk.

Rachel immediately stiffens, looking at her father in complete mortification. "Daddy!" she chides in an awkwardly high-pitched voice, distinct redness across her face.

"Ok, on second thought, please do _not_ answer that..." he trails off, a hint of a blush showing even on his dark skin. He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Ok. Let's try this again. Whether you girls are... _doing that_ or not is irrelevant." He clears his throat as he looks back up at the girls. "Rule number one: you sleep in separate beds. No exceptions."

Both girls nod.

Kevin nods in return. "Ok. Rule number two..." he trails off, looking around in thought. "Actually I think rule number one is the only one we really need to be concerned about right now."

An awkward silence settles in between the three.

"Um, ok," Kevin speaks once more. "I guess I'll leave you girls to it." His eyes immediately bulge at his own words. "Not _it_, you know, but, you know..." he trails off.

Santana chuckles, bringing a hand up to cover her eyes, _Oh my god, this is ridiculous._

"Got it!" Rachel says quickly, burying her head back into Santana's shoulder in embarrassment.

"Ok... separate beds," Kevin reiterates, pointing between the two girls before turning to leave.

As soon as he's out of the room, Rachel collapses back onto the bed, raising an arm to cover her eyes and resting a hand on her stomach. "I am _so_ sorry," she says softly.

Santana also leans back, rolling onto her side and propping her head on her hand, placing her other hand on top of the diva's. "Don't worry. Fifty percent of your family is on our side. That's _totally_ a pass." She smiles at the girl beneath her.

Rachel slides her arm up to her forehead so that she can look up at the Latina, a smile playing across her face. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Whenever I'm feeling completely embarrassed, or terrified, or _anything_, really..." she trails off, trying to piece together her words. "You just... you manage to say the exact right thing to make me smile again."

Santana smirks, "Well obviously I'm just fucking awesome."

Rachel rolls her eyes, but leans up to press her lips to the Latina's.

When she pulls away, Santana raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you worried about getting sick?"

"Not if you're here to take care of me..." Rachel says softly with a shy smile and a blush creeping up her neck.

Santana smiles wide, "Always."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: So this will be the only update this week (for real this time) but I'll try to make next Monday's chapter a loooong one and worth the wait ;)**

**Previously, on IYH: Remember the Parking Authority incident (c. Chapter 8) when Rachel promised to get Santana back? Yup.**

* * *

It's after breakfast on Wednesday morning. Rachel has already left for school and Santana is in her temporary room just changing into a fresh pair of clothes. She sighs heavily and falls back onto the bed. _Another fucking day trapped inside._

She flashes back to the scene that played out just half an hour ago in this same room.

"_Rachel..." the Latina draws out, bordering on a whine. "I'm _entirely_ not contagious anymore. I mean, come on, I'm up and walking around, I'm not even coughing, my voice is... well, it's getting there... why are you locking me in this damn house?" She sighs in frustration._

_Rachel stands firm with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She doesn't respond but simply turns her head towards the open door. "Daddy!" she calls out, causing Santana to raise an eyebrow._

_Kevin appears shortly and takes to leaning against the doorframe of the guestroom with a raised brow._

"_Please inform Santana that there is no way she's going to school today. She is still _entirely_ sick despite the fact her medication is making her feel better." Rachel says simply._

_Kevin looks over to the Latina, who is looking back at him with pleading eyes, then over to his daughter, who is looking at him sternly. Santana can tell he's going to side with Rachel―he'd face a hell of a lot more backlash if he didn't._

_The man sighs heavily, running a hand over his buzzed hair and letting it rest on his neck. "While I'm guessing the 'feeling better' has a lot more to do with actually _being_ better than with the medication at this point," he starts, earning a glare from the diva. He waves his hand dismissively at his daughter before speaking pointedly at Santana. "I'm not sure it would hurt to give it one more day. If you're still feeling a hundred percent tonight, then we'll cross the bridge of sending you back to school tomorrow. Sound alright?" he offers with a soft smile._

_Santana sighs in frustration but nods her head in acceptance._

_Rachel smiles brightly, skipping over to hug her daddy and whisper her thanks before turning back towards the Latina. "Stay in bed," she points. "You can hang out in my room. At least you'll have a TV to watch."_

_Santana just groans and Kevin smirks before turning to leave the room, slightly shaking his head._

"_I have to go," Rachel says simply before walking over to the Latina. She starts to lean in for a kiss and Santana purses her lips in expectation, but at the last second the diva diverts her aim and kisses the Latina's cheek. She pulls back with a playful smile._

_Santana is agape with an eyebrow raised as she speaks. "Oh yeah? See where that gets you."_

_Rachel just points to the bed. "In. Bed." She says sternly._

_Santana drops her brow and shakes her head, "Definitely not there..."_

_Rachel chuckles slightly as she turns to leave. "I'll see you in the afternoon," she waves over her shoulder._

Santana stands and paces around the room for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do with herself, before finally deciding to take Rachel up on the offer of spending the day in her room―with a television.

She walks over to the next door down the hall, one she's passed every time she's gone to the bathroom, and actually takes a look at it for the first time. Hanging at eye level is a gold star emblem with Rachel's name etched in it. She smirks and slightly shakes her head, _So predictable._ The star is surrounded by photos―the majority of them of New Directions or of random combinations of glee members. She halts her eyes when she sees a picture of just herself and Rachel, both laughing. _When the hell is this from? _she wonders as she runs her hand over the glossy paper, a smile tugging at her lips. After staring at the photo for a few moments, she takes a deep breath and reaches down to touch the doorknob. She slowly twists it, _Here we go_, and enters Rachel Berry's bedroom for the first time.

When she steps in, she's immediately visually assaulted. The room screams 'Rachel' in every way, shape and form. The walls are painted a bright pink and there are posters, pictures, and decorations of all sorts scattered across every smooth surface in the room, save the floor. There's a desk on the opposite side of the queen-sized sleigh bed with a laptop and various papers strewn across it. On the end wall there is a large, old-fashioned lit vanity with a TV sitting on one end. The bed sheets are floral―almost grandma-ish if you ask Santana―and matching curtains are framing the window. True to Rachel's personal style, the room manages to be at once completely immature yet exceptionally old.

Santana spends forever just visually scanning her surroundings before she actually compels herself to move. She walks over to the vanity and looks at the pictures that are tacked onto the mirror. Her face immediately drops. She can see at least three photos of Rachel and Finn just on first glance. _Fucking Finnocence,_ she groans. Part of her is jealous of how happy Rachel seems to be on Finn's arm, but―if she's honest with herself―a larger part of her is jealous of how happy Finn looks to be with Rachel. _Why can't I ever feel that way?_

She shakes her head and continues her tour of the room, reaching the other side and running her hand along the length of the diva's desk. As she reaches the end, she notices something that makes her stop and quirk and eyebrow―Rachel's iPhone, complete with its hideous pink rhinestone case, still plugged in and charging. Santana smirks as a sudden idea rushes over her. _Fucking awesome,_ she smiles as she takes the phone between her hands.

* * *

Santana watches TV for a couple hours before she catches movement in the corner of her eye. She almost has a heart attack as she spins on the bed to see Kevin in the doorway, wearing an amused smile. She grabs at her shirt in the area of her heart. "Holy shit," she breathes out. "I think you actually gave me a heart attack." The man smirks further, and Santana suddenly finds herself confused as to why she didn't hear him coming. "What are you, like, a ninja?"

Kevin chuckles lightly. "Not a ninja, I just don't elephant-walk like certain female members of the Berry family," he winks.

Santana smiles but then grows curious. "I thought you went to work?"

"Nope," he shakes his head. "I'm not seeing any clients today so I'm just doing paperwork here at home."

Santana nods her understanding.

"Want some company for a bit? I assume you're going a bit stir-crazy by now and I could certainly use a break..."

Santana nods again, but with a smile this time. "Sure, why not."

The man enters the room and proceeds to take a seat in Rachel's desk chair, spinning around to half-face the Latina and half-face the TV. "So, just so you know," the man starts. "We'll definitely send you back to school tomorrow. I just know how to pick my battles with Little Miss Broadway."

Santana slightly smirks, amused by the fact that Kevin calls the diva by pretty much the same teasing nickname as she does, as she nods, "Makes sense."

"How's school going for you anyway? You're the same year as Rachel, right?"

"Yup, same year," she answers plainly. "And school's ok in general. Cheerios is a total pain in my ass, though."

Kevin just looks at the girl in complete and utter confusion.

Santana raises an eyebrow, equally confused, but more so as to what's causing the confusion. "What?"

He scrunches his face slightly, "'Cheerios'... I'm just having a hard time figuring out whether you're talking about a breakfast cereal or a British parting remark."

The girl chuckles. "The 'Cheerios' are the cheerleading squad at McKinley," she explains.

Kevin nods in understanding. "Ah, ok. Yeah, I think Rachel mentioned something about you being a cheerleader, back in the day."

Santana looks down, thinking about all the horror stories the man must know about her and her past with Rachel.

Kevin seems to read what's happening. "Hey, it's all water under the bridge, alright?" Santana looks up with hopeful eyes. "That set of values Rachel was talking about last night? Totally from me," he winks, semi-cockily, before looking at the girl sincerely. "You've got my trust until you break it."

Santana nods with a smile, feeling elated at the man's approval. Her smile drops as Kevin's brow drops, though.

"If you _do_ break my trust, well... just please don't hurt my daughter. I can see that she has strong feelings for you, and if this is just some sort of game or something to you, please leave her out of it." He's not looking at Santana warningly, but more pleadingly. "She's been through enough pain as it is."

Santana turns her head and stares blankly ahead at the television. _Say something_. She wants to say the right thing to make Kevin truly trust in her, to wipe away any doubts he may have, but the words just don't come.

Kevin sighs. "Kiddo, I like you as a person. I just hope you don't make me regret that."

Santana looks down at her lap and speaks the only thing she can think to say. "I'll do my best."

The man's expression, as well as his voice, softens again. "And that's all I can really ask, I suppose." Santana looks up again to see the man smiling kindly. "So... what are we watching?" he asks light-heartedly, shifting his gaze to the TV.

* * *

The two watch some hour-long soap opera, making idle chatter, before Kevin gets up to head back downstairs. He stops at the doorway and turns back towards Santana, leaning his shoulder onto the doorjamb. "So what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Santana furrows her brow in thought for a moment before looking up with a slightly pleading expression. "I was actually hoping to go for a run..? Maybe have a shower..? That's about it."

"Well, there are fresh linens in the washroom, so we're cool with the shower part..." he pauses and smirks slightly. "I'm not sure if you've taken a look out the window lately, but, sadly, going for a run isn't exactly a feasible option at the moment..."

Santana slightly groans as she remembers. _Fucking snow_.

"However," Kevin starts once more. "You _can_ use Rachel's treadmill, which is down in the basement," the man smiles kindly.

Santana smiles wide, "Thanks, Mr. Berry."

His brow drops and his gaze narrows. "You really need to cut the bullshit―especially if you're going to be dating my daughter."

Santana's eyes go wide as she looks at Kevin like a deer in the headlights. "Huh?" she vocalizes as she starts mentally backtracking, trying to figure out what she could've possibly said to anger the man.

He shakes his head with a smile playing across his features. "All this 'Mr. Berry' bullshit," he explains. "I'm Kevin and my husband is David."

The Latina furrows her brow in thought for a couple seconds before looking back up at the man with a smile. "How about if I cut the bullshit entirely and just call you guys 'Devin'?"

Kevin raises a playful eyebrow. "And why 'Devin', pray tell?"

"Well," she pauses to think for a moment. "'Kavid' sounds a little too much like 'K-Fed', and no one deserves _that_..." she shakes her head in emphasis.

Kevin just chuckles and nods his head in acceptance. "You know, you're starting to grow on me, kiddo... like a fungus."

Santana feigns hurt, raising a hand up to her chest, before smirking with a shrug, "Well, your daughter _is_ a vegan, so I suppose that fits."

The man smiles and shakes his head. "Ok, well, go run or shower or whatever it is you want to do... just make sure you're back in bed by 4 so neither of us gets our asses handed to us by a certain young lady with diva-like tendencies."

Santana smiles in return. "Thanks again, Mr.―" she catches herself. "_Kevin_," she vocalizes, as if testing out the name.

He chuckles. "I can live with 'Mr. Kevin'."

* * *

Santana spends the afternoon working out in the basement and showering before making her way back into Rachel's room around 3:30. She sighs and smiles contentedly as she relaxes onto the diva's bed, the workout and shower combining to make her feel like a million dollars.

She clasps her hands behind her head and stares up at the ceiling as she starts to think about the situation she's in. Realistically, things with Rachel's fathers could be a _lot_ worse than they're actually shaping out to be. Having Kevin's support is a huge part of that. While she understands that gaining David's approval will definitely take time and effort, she's incredibly happy that she seems to have Kevin as an advocate. With the way he shot glares at the stern man when he was being overly combative and the way he stuck up for her and Rachel, Santana's almost sure that the man is going to bat for her even when she's not around. She smiles at the thought. Santana and Kevin seem to have fallen into a natural bond, and she's finding herself growing quickly attached to the man―almost as if he were her own father, the father she's been missing all these years.

She frowns as she thinks of her own father―a man so warm and loving during her younger years and yet so cold and callous leading up to his departure. There's a reason she hasn't spoken to him in three years and, simply put, it's because he's not much to talk to. Santana can't stand the unspoken judgment, his weakly feigned interest in her life, the way he manages to undercut all of her achievements. If one thing has come with age, it's the realization that the man has no regard for his former-family. If Santana doesn't pick up a phone, neither does he. She's realized it's easier to just not talk to him at all rather than face the same disappointment and heartbreak every time she does. She sighs, _Fuck him. I don't need him_.

Her frown doesn't go away, though. An unexpected corollary of meeting Kevin is that he's made her realize what she's been missing all these years, and it makes her sad. Compounding on the sadness is a feeling of frustration―she knows it's irrational to be sad right now, but she can't help it. _This is ridiculous. I'm happy now, so why am I feeling like this?_ She groans and rolls out of the bed, wandering over to the window to take a look outside.

The scene is, once again, beautiful. Sometime over the past 24 hours an even thicker blanket of snow has fallen over the city, making the outdoors look more like a greeting card than anything else. Santana registers how pretty it looks, but can't bring herself to smile. She turns away with a sigh, running a hand over her face as she makes her way back to the bed. She flops onto her back and throws an arm up over her eyes.

If there's one bright side to this entire situation, it's the girl whose bed she's lying on. _Rachel._ As soon as the name crosses her mind she smiles and all her negative thoughts start to melt away. There's no use in wondering about 'what if's with respect to her father when any one of those 'what if's might have changed the circumstances under which her and Rachel have managed to come together.

She's not sure how long she's there, but she snaps out of her thoughts when she hears the front door open. She pops up from the bed and out into the hallway, peering around the corner to see Rachel downstairs, peeling off her winter layers. She finds herself smiling as she stealthily watches the diva.

Her spying doesn't last long before Rachel chances a glance up and smiles at the Latina. Rather than come upstairs, though, she simply holds up her index finger before disappearing down the downstairs hallway.

Santana quirks an eyebrow, but heads back into the diva's room and sits on the edge of the bed to wait for her.

About 5 minutes later, Santana can hear Rachel coming up the stairs. The diva enters the room and abruptly closes the door behind her.

"Hey," Santana smiles.

Rachel doesn't speak but quickly advances towards the Latina, leaning down and brushing their lips together.

Santana smiles against the diva's lips, but it doesn't last long as Rachel quickly deepens the embrace, pushing the Latina back onto the bed and climbing on top of her. One of Rachel's hands finds rest on Santana's cheek as she uses the other to brace her weight on the bed. Santana's hands automatically latch onto the girl's hips as she lets her tongue wrestle with the diva's.

Rachel doesn't pull away until the need for air becomes too great. When it does, she rolls and flops onto her back next to the Latina, her chest heaving as she fights to catch her breath.

Santana is awestruck as she stares at the ceiling, struggling to catch her own breath. "Wow," she breathes out as she turns her head to stare at the diva.

Rachel turns her head to meet Santana's gaze and smiles bashfully. "Hey," she breathes out before nervously turning her gaze back up to the ceiling.

A silence settles between the two, and Santana watches the soft rise and fall of Rachel's chest as it works its way back to a normal rate. "So..." she starts. "Not that I in _any_ way object, but what was that for?" she asks with an eyebrow raised.

"Bad day," the diva answers simply.

Santana's brow furrows as she feels genuine concern wash over her, "Why 'bad day'?"

Rachel turns her gaze back towards the Latina and shakes her head with a shy smile, "Doesn't matter right now. It just got better."

Santana feels a goofy grin spread across her face and she returns her stare to the ceiling.

Rachel rolls onto her side and shuffles over on the bed to rest her head on the Latina's shoulder, throwing a leg over one of Santana's own and reaching a hand under the cheerleader's shirt to run it along her stomach. "You smell good today," she mumbles tiredly onto the Latina's shoulder.

Santana can feel goosebumps rising over her abs and a blush spread across her face. She raises an eyebrow despite the fact Rachel can't see it. "Are you implying that I usually smell bad?" She can feel the diva chuckle against her shoulder.

Rachel props her head up on one of her hands and stares down at the Latina with a smug smile, leaving her other hand resting flat against the girl's stomach. "Well, maybe a little bit... just lately..."

Santana rolls her eyes and scoffs lightly, a smile still playing across her mouth. "Can I ask you something?"

Rachel raises her eyebrow, "Sure...?"

"That picture of us on your door... when and where is that from? I've been racking my brain all afternoon to remember, but I just have no clue," she shakes her head with a bit of an embarrassed chuckle.

Rachel smiles and closes her eyes, seeming to flash back to the actual moment. She opens her eyes again and looks away with a bit of a blush. "It was this summer when we all got together for that picnic."

A smile spreads across Santana's face as she thinks back―she can remember the day quite clearly. New Directions had gotten together one Saturday near the end of the summer, just after Brittany and Santana had returned from cheer camp. It was a day of bonding, a day just to have some fun as a group before the start of the school year and the inevitable social split.

Santana runs over the course of events that day in her mind, but for the life of her she can't think of a single moment where she and Rachel would have been laughing together.

She raises an eyebrow. "Ok... and when were _we_ hanging out together?"

"We weren't hanging out together, really..." the diva explains. "We just happened to be standing next to each other. It was when Puck fell down the hill."

Santana smiles and slightly laughs at the memory. She, Puck, Matt and Brittany had completely smoked out before meeting up with the rest of the gleeks and were having a hell of a silly time that devolved into a full-on four person water balloon fight with the rest of New Directions watching amusedly. Brittany and Santana had already tossed in the towel, but Matt had been trying to chase Puck down for quite some time. At one point he finally managed to land a square shot right on the boy's shoulder blade and, at the moment of impact, Puck happened to step on a wet spot on the grass and he slipped right down the side of the berm.

"It's one of my favourite pictures..." Rachel says sheepishly, rousing the Latina from her memories.

Santana raises an eyebrow with a smirk. "We look like a couple in it."

Rachel blushes heavily and settles back onto the Latina's shoulder, speaking in a near mumble. "That's why it's one of my favourites."

Santana reaches out to link her hand with the diva's hand on her stomach as she smiles wide, "I think it might be one of mine, now, too."

Rachel's smile stretches to match Santana's own as the two settle into silence and the feel of their embrace.

A few minutes pass before Santana sighs contentedly. "So we never figured out a nickname for you..." she trails off thoughtfully.

Rachel shrugs, "That's ok. I actually like hearing you say my name."

The Latina smirks, "So, there are like ten thousand different ways that could've been a dirty comment..."

Rachel rolls her eyes, "You know what I mean." It's a few minutes before she speaks again, propping her head back up on her hand before she does. "What if I had a nickname for you? One that's just mine..." she suggests shyly, staring down at the bedsheet with a slight blush.

"Sure," Santana smiles. "Anything in mind?"

The diva thinks for a moment before looking down at the cheerleader. "Well, I was thinking... you're _captain_ of the cheerios, so what if I called you 'Captain'?"

Santana can't stifle the slight laugh that escapes her. "So..." she raises a finger. "Just to recap... _you_ want to call _me_ 'Captain' and you want me to call you '_R_'..." she draws out the sound. "You're really into this pirate thing, aren't you?" she teases with a raised eyebrow.

Rachel just rolls her eyes.

Santana can't help but tease the girl. "Man, I bet an eye patch would really get you going..." she muses aloud.

The diva pouts, "You tried giving me a nickname... I just thought I should have one for you, too."

"Maybe a nice sea-shanty," the Latina continues, raising a hand to her chin and looking up at the ceiling in mock-thought.

"Santana..." Rachel whines.

"You know, something tells me you'd be a really big fan of spiced rum," she nods to herself, unable to fight the laugh that escapes her as the diva slaps her shoulder.

Santana doesn't stop laughing, so, in an attempt to silence her, Rachel leans down and kisses her deeply. Santana melts into the contact, but all-too-soon the diva pulls away with an eyebrow raised. "Are you done?"

Santana is still smirking, but nods. "For now, at least..."

Rachel settles back onto Santana's shoulder and silence spreads over the room for a few moments before the Latina speaks.

"Hey Rachel?" she starts with a grin.

"Yeah?" Rachel inquires tiredly, not moving from her spot.

"Are you a pirate?" she asks seriously.

Rachel's brow drops in complete and utter confusion. "What? No... why?"

Santana smirks even further, "Because I want your booty."

Rachel can't help but laugh at the horrible line, and she smiles wide as she comes up with an idea. She rises up and shifts so that she is straddling the Latina, sitting back on her heels, staring down into the girl's eyes.

Santana's hands instinctively move to rest on the diva's thighs and she starts to massage the muscles beneath the girl's bare skin, her mouth having already run dry. The fact that Rachel is wearing a skirt is only making the situation that much better in Santana's mind.

Rachel's rigid expression slightly falters as she feels the Latina's strong hands work her muscles. She sighs contentedly at the feel, but quickly steels herself as Santana's hands start to drift upwards. She reaches down to take the girl's hands into her own and drops their conjoined hands onto the bed above the cheerleader's head, leaving her lips hovering mere inches above the ones beneath her.

Santana can feel herself getting quite turned on at this sudden turn of events. Rachel bites her bottom lip and Santana's breath hitches as her heart starts to beat violently against her ribcage. Her heart rate only quickens further as Rachel starts to lean in slightly.

Santana arches up to meet the diva halfway but, as she does, Rachel pulls away slightly. The Latina pouts and Rachel seems to cede as she starts to lean in again, but as soon as Santana arches up, the diva pulls away again.

"Rachel..." Santana whines, completely unashamed of the fact she is doing so, her want and need starting to outweigh her better judgment.

Rachel leans in again, but this time diverts her lips down towards the Latina's neck, alternating breathing warm air and blowing cool air onto the sensitive skin.

Santana's eyes close and she starts to lose control of her breathing, despite how objectively innocuous the action is.

Rachel lets her breath trail up the girl's neck, along the side of her jaw, and up to her ear, allowing her lips to lightly graze the soft skin on occasion. "I love how deep your voice is right now," the diva coos huskily. "I could just listen to you talk all night."

Santana shivers at the hot air brushing past her ear, 'talking' being the absolute last thing on her mind at the moment. She decides to respond though. "Oh yeah?" she breathes out with a raised brow, her eyes still closed. "Do you like the way it cracks like a pubescent boy's, too?"

Rachel lets her lips fall onto the Latina's throat so that the girl can feel her chuckle.

As the diva's slight laugh vibrates through her, Santana moans involuntarily and slightly arches up, absolutely convinced that she is no longer regulating any of her body's functions.

Rachel shifts the Latina's hands so that she has them both pinned down under just one of her own, sliding her other hand down Santana's arm, across her shoulder, and up her neck, bringing it to rest on her cheek. The diva starts to run her thumb along Santana's bottom lip, causing the Latina to open her eyes.

Santana feels like her eyes are completely glazed over as she stares almost hazily up at the girl above her with her mouth hanging slightly open. The one thing she can make out for sure is Rachel licking her lips, and she's suddenly convinced that her heart has stopped beating altogether. She considers vocalizing her need to the diva, but finds that she can't form words. Her attempt ends up coming out as a somewhat muffled groan.

Rachel smiles before leaning down once more. She places a tender kiss on the Latina's lips, but pulls away when the cheerleader tries to deepen it. Santana pouts heavily, but Rachel just leans back on her heels, letting her hand drift down the Latina's throat, continuing down her chest, through her cleavage, down her stomach―"Oh, will you look at the time," she says simply before relinquishing her hold on the Latina and moving to stand.

For a moment Santana feels paralyzed, but once she snaps out of it she sits up and gawks at the diva in complete and utter disbelief. "Uh..." is the only thing she can vocalize. She shakes her head, trying to make it work again. The venture is at least slightly successful as she finds herself able to form a single English word. "What?"

Once Rachel has straightened out her clothes and fixed her hair in the vanity mirror, she looks over at the Latina with a smug grin. "They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but I think in this case it was best served hot," she says thoughtfully with a hand raised to her chin.

Santana's face completely knots up as she releases an equally well-thought-out utterance. "Huh?"

Rachel walks back over to the edge of the bed and leans down to condescendingly pat the cheerleader on the head. "I believe you said you were 'looking forward to it'?" the diva winks, echoing Santana's cocky tone from Friday.

As the pieces fall together, even in Santana's slightly cloudy mind, she groans in frustration and falls back onto the bed with her eyes closed, raising her hands over her face. _I can't fucking believe this._

A couple minutes pass before Rachel clears her throat audibly.

Santana slightly slides her hands down and opens her eyes to look over at the diva.

"So... I'd like to change and whatnot, so you can see yourself out," she smirks as she leans against the now open door and gestures her head towards the hallway.

The Latina sits up abruptly and raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're serious?"

Rachel just nods, and Santana groans heavily before standing and heading towards the door.

On her way out, she stops in front of Rachel and runs a hand lightly down the girl's body, causing the diva's eyelids to flutter lightly, before stepping in close and reaching around the girl's body to squeeze her ass. Rachel squeaks, and Santana speaks almost against her lips in a near whisper, "This totally isn't over." She steps back and winks before walking away with a broad smile, adding an extra sway to her hips, fully aware that the diva is watching.

* * *

**On the next IYH: Back to school...**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: A general style note for this chapter and all subsequent ones, I'm going to use square brackets to indicate when someone is speaking Spanish. (Eg. If Santana were to talk to anyone in her family, she would clearly speak in Spanish rather than in English.)**

**Also, now that Santana's back in school the pace of this story should pick right back up :) (idek, I feel like the past 3 chapters have been more filler than anything else... :/)**

**I sincerely hope this chapter was worth the wait... And, again, we broach a little closer to the M-rating. ;)**

* * *

It's Thursday morning and, after stopping off at Santana's house so that she could shower and change, Rachel and the Latina pull into the WMHS parking lot with 15 minutes to spare before morning glee rehearsal.

As Rachel turns off the ignition, the airspace that was previously filled by the radio falls silent. Neither girl tears their gaze away from the imposing grey building in front of them. This is it. This is the morning they're going to tell the glee club what's happening between them. This is the day they're going to find out who supports them and who doesn't. Santana sighs at the thought.

"We're really about to do this, aren't we..." Rachel ventures nervously, cutting through the thick silence.

"Yeah, we are," Santana answers matter-of-factly, nodding her head.

Rachel breathes out an unsteady breath before she speaks again. "I'm not entirely sure I've ever been this nervous... not even telling my dads."

The Latina chuckles awkwardly. "Honestly? Me neither..."

Neither move.

After a couple minutes, Santana clears her throat. "Um, we _are_ going to have to go in at some point soon―" she looks down at her watch before looking over at Rachel uncertainly. "―or we're gonna be late."

Rachel looks up with a near-terrified expression, her hand still tightly gripped around the parking break.

Santana smiles lightly and reaches down to remove the diva's hand and take it into her own. She brings it up and brushes her lips against the girl's knuckles. "Hey," she coos softly. "We'll be alright. Worst case scenario, we get ostracized... which we kind of already are for being gleeks," she shrugs, trying to lighten the mood. "Remember, we've already got Quinn and Puck on our side... and I don't think Kurcedes will have any issue with it... and both Matt and Brittany know―which means Mike knows, too... Artie and Tina will totally be cool with it..." she leaves it hanging, not wanting to bring up the one name that's really on both of their minds.

"He's gonna freak out." Rachel says, staring down at their hands, vocalizing the Latina's concerns.

Santana sighs, _Always fucking Frankenteen_. "You know what? He's only one person. He'll get over it. If Brittany can get over it, so can he." She smiles kindly.

Rachel's lips curl up slightly. "Ok."

"Ok?" Santana confirms, her brow raised.

"Ok." The diva repeats firmly with a nod.

"Well ok then," Santana half chuckles as she starts to climb out of the car, Rachel following shortly thereafter.

The two start a slow, silent stroll down the empty halls with their hands linked. Once they reach the music room door, Santana simply squeezes the diva's hand reassuringly, not feeling the need to vocalize to convey her feelings. Rachel smiles and lifts to her toes to brush her lips against the Latina's before they release hands and enter the room.

As soon as Quinn sees Santana walk in, she pops up from her seat. "Motherfuck, it's alive!" she remarks with a smile as she walks up to wrap Santana in a friendly hug. However, almost immediately her expression shifts and she pushes the Latina back by the shoulders. She arches an eyebrow, "You're not still contagious, are you?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Ask Rachel," she smirks as she raises her eyebrows a few times before gesturing her head towards the passing diva. Quinn grimaces slightly, drawing a chuckle from the Latina.

Rachel overhears and blushes heavily as she continues past the pair and into a seat.

Mr. Schue soon emerges from his office and walks up to the piano before turning to face the group. "Good morning, guys," he greets with a smile. "Ladies?" he directs towards Santana and Quinn, gesturing his arm for them to take a seat.

They slide into the two vacant seats next to Rachel in the front row.

Schue claps his hands together cheerily, "Alright. So as I told you on Monday, next week we're gonna be taking the week off so that you guys can focus on final assignments. But! We've got an exciting session today―we're going to start talking about potential numbers for Regionals!" As the group cheers, he instinctively looks over to Rachel, expecting the diva to have her usual opinion on the matter. He finds himself taken aback when she doesn't seem to have anything to say.

Santana finds herself nothing if not equally shocked as she looks at the girl in the seat next to her, flabbergasted by her silence.

Schue clears his throat awkwardly. "Ok..?" he draws out almost questioningly, still staring at the diva, whose eyes seem to be fixed on the ground. He clears his throat and adjusts his tie before looking back up at the group. "Ok, first thing today, though, we have a performance from Puck!" he gestures towards the boy.

Santana's head snaps up in surprise, _Really? I wonder why he didn't tell me anything about it..._

The group applauds and the mohawked boy gets up and retrieves his guitar from its case before settling on a stool in front of the piano. Brad is sitting at the large instrument behind him and Artie wheels over with a bass guitar in hand and plugs in.

Once he's sure everything's set up, Puck clears his throat and looks out to the bleachers. "Alright, so this song is dedicated to Quinn... and a little bit to Santana, too." The Latina's eyes go wide. "I hope I didn't fuck things up too badly..." he smiles softly at both of the girls before starting to strum.

"Sittin' on the edge, looking for songs in a bottle  
Talking with strangers who don't know my pain  
Blurry eyed and burned out, choking on more than I can swallow  
Crack in a little voice that calls out my name,

"She said 'Whatever happened to you?  
It's been two years where have you been?'  
And I guess all my fears were true  
The words were all gone, the time's been too long  
But it's not too late to say I'm sorry to a friend  
What happened to my friend?"

Santana chances glances at Quinn's face as the boy sings, and as hard as the blonde is trying to stay composed, the Latina can see cracks forming. The more she watches, the more she realizes that Quinn really does have feelings for Puck―despite the fact she's trying to fight them.

She shifts her gaze towards Puck, who is looking intently at Quinn as he continues to sing.

"Staring at her face, I see a past that still haunts me  
The road where we split up is paved with the things I didn't say  
We had wonderful times, but terrible timing  
Now just leave her alone, I'll just be in the way.

"She said, 'Whatever happened to you  
You took the coward's way out again.'  
And I guess all my fears were true  
The words are all gone, the time's been too long  
But it's not too late to say I'm sorry to a friend  
I'm sorry to a friend, sorry to a friend, sorry to a friend."

Santana smiles as the boy continues to sing. For once, it seems like Puck is trying to go about things the right way.

"Like a stone in a stream, life smoothes all our edges  
'Til we barely make a ripple anymore  
But those times in my life will live with me forever  
But we're not the same people that we were before.

"And I'm sorry for the smiles we missed and the times that I blew it  
I've got so much to tell you, I don't know where to start  
Maybe I'll find a way, maybe you'll help me do it  
'Cause friends like us should not be apart  
And I'm sorry to a friend, well now I'm sorry."

The boy trails off, repeating "I'm sorry" as the song comes to an end.

The group applauds and Santana shoots the boy a smile and a sly thumbs up, hiding it from Quinn's view, as he heads back towards the bleachers.

Schue returns to the front of the class and spends the next half hour at the white board taking suggestions and storyboarding potential Regionals set lists as Rachel continues to stay uncharacteristically quiet. Santana watches the diva as the session continues, noticing how her breathing grows progressively less even as time passes. Watching the girl makes her start to grow nervous herself.

Schue chances a glance up at the clock before capping the marker in his hands. "Alright guys, that's our time for today. Best of luck with your projects and whatnot and I'll see you after next week!" He walks to the piano and starts to gather his things as people start to move around.

Santana stands and turns towards the bleachers, "Hold up, if you guys could just hold on an extra minute, I need to make an announcement."

Schue raises an eyebrow, but walks towards the bleachers and takes a seat as the other gleeks return to theirs.

Santana makes it up to the piano and turns to face the group before she realizes that she's up there alone. She looks pointedly at Rachel, who has not moved the entire session and is still staring blankly at the ground. "Rachel," she says firmly and the girl looks up at her. She gestures her head to the spot next to her, and the movement seems to finally spring the diva into action.

Rachel walks up and takes the spot next to Santana, turning to face the group but immediately looking down at the ground once more.

Santana's heart starts to race a little faster as she looks at Rachel and reads the nerves that have made their way up to the front of the room along with the diva. She starts wringing her hands together in front of her body as she awkwardly clears her throat. "Um, ok, so... I guess it's more like an announcement that Rachel and I _both_ need to make..." she trails off nervously, keeping her eyes on the diva. She nudges the girl's shoulder with her own.

"Um, yes," Rachel chimes in, but as she looks up she completely freezes, her mouth slightly agape.

Santana sighs deeply as she turns back towards the group, but no words escape her either.

The gleeks are all staring at the pair in complete bafflement. There is about a minute of silence―the longest minute of Santana's life, she's sure―before a voice breaks it up.

"Oh for chrissakes," Quinn starts with a roll of her eyes. "They're dating."

"I _told_ you," Kurt says excitedly as he leans down to slap Mercedes' shoulder.

A few gasps and some mumbling happen before a strong voice interjects.

"_What?_" Finn shakes his head as he stands, unmistakable anger in his voice. "Rachel, please tell me you're not this stupid..." he trails off, staring pointedly at the diva.

Rachel doesn't respond but grabs hold of Santana's bicep and turns her head to bury it into the Latina's shoulder, trying to pretend that she's anywhere but in this room right now.

"Back the fuck off, Finnocence," Santana warns in a serious tone, crossing her arms defensively in front of her body.

"This is bullshit!" the boy says incredulously, shifting his eyes to positively glare at the Latina. "You've spent the past 10 years treating her like complete shit!" he gestures his arm towards the silent diva. "Rachel," his voice grows tender as he steps down off of the risers and starts towards the girl.

He doesn't make it very far before a firm grip on his arm stops him. "You heard the girl, she said back off man," Puck says firmly as he stands from his own seat.

Finn yanks his arm out from Puck's grasp. "This is completely retarded!" he near-yells.

"Dude, chill the fuck out," Puck says warningly with a shake of his head.

"Or else what, huh?" Finn asks incredulously, turning back to face the mohawked boy. "You gonna do something about it?" He pushes Puck, and the boy stumbles back a few steps, almost tripping over the front row of chairs.

At the commotion, Mr. Schue stands, preparing himself to intervene should the situation escalate.

"Finn! You're being ridiculous," Quinn chides as she also stands.

As the blonde speaks, Puck steadies himself and begins to advance on Finn. "How about yes, I _am_ gonna do something about it," he responds as he pushes the oafish boy back.

Schue rushes over quickly and grabs Finn by the shoulders as he starts back towards the mohawked boy. Mike and Matt do the same to Puck in an attempt to separate the two jocks. Santana is wide-eyed at the scene playing out in front of her, _Holy shit_, and Rachel is still buried in her shoulder.

It's Brittany who, out of nowhere, speaks over the ruckus. "Stop it!" Everyone turns towards her in surprise―even Rachel looks up―as she speaks pointedly at Finn. "Everyone else here seems to be ok with this, so the fact that _you're_ not would seem to suggest that the problem is with _you_ and not with them," she gestures an arm towards the two girls at the front of the class and shoots them a soft smile.

Santana's jaw drops and Rachel is wide-eyed at the blonde's defence.

Finn just pulls out of Mr. Schue's grasp and stands still, running a hand over his hair. "I can't believe this. Everyone's gone fucking insane," he shakes his head before simply walking to the bleachers and grabbing his bag. He turns back and leaves the room without another word.

The other two jocks release Puck, who walks up to the pair at the front of the room before turning back towards the rest of the group. "And if anyone _else_ has a problem with it, I'll be happy to sort _you_ out, too," he says warningly as he cracks his knuckles.

"Me too," Quinn pipes up as she steps towards the front of the class, crossing her arms as she turns to face the group.

Santana smiles at both Puck and Quinn before looking up to other blonde in the room uncertainly. Brittany is still smiling kindly at her, and she shoots the girl a genuinely thankful smile in return.

She turns to Rachel and reaches out to take the small girl's hand into her own, causing the diva to look at her for the first time. "We're good," she says softly with a wink, giving the small hand a reassuring squeeze.

Rachel just smiles up at her with adoration in her eyes.

"Ok," Mr. Schue chimes in, awkwardly clearing his throat to regain the attention of the group. "I guess it's a good thing we have a week off..." he trails off in a mumble, talking more to himself than anyone else, not really knowing what to say at this point. He smiles awkwardly and claps his hands together, "We'll see you all in a couple weeks."

With that said, the older man heads into his office and the remaining gleeks start packing up their things and moving to leave.

Puck turns towards the girls with a smile and wordlessly reaches out to squeeze each of their shoulders reassuringly before going to grab his bag and heading out.

Quinn wraps Rachel up in a surprisingly warm hug before stepping over and doing the same to Santana. "It'll be all good," she whispers before relinquishing her hold, picking up her bag, and heading out herself.

Matt and Mike both fist-bump with Santana before taking off, and Artie and Tina shoot both girls broad smiles and kind waves as they leave as well.

Kurt and Mercedes walk up to the pair, the small boy wearing a particularly smug smile. "I would like to formally thank you both for winning me $10. I may not really _understand_ it," he shakes his head slightly for emphasis. "But I know chemistry when I see it."

"Get it, girls," Mercedes says with a wink and a smile. "I'm actually happy you two are together... although you _did_ lose me $10..." she trails off.

Santana rolls her eyes but her smile doesn't drop. She finds herself absolutely elated at New Directions' seeming blanket acceptance of her and Rachel's relationship, save for that one boy who doesn't really matter anyway.

Finally, Brittany walks up hesitantly with a shy smile. Santana immediately reaches out to grab her hand and pull her into a firm hug. "Thank you so, so much B," she says softly into the blonde's ear. When she pulls away, Brittany is wearing a bashful smile.

"I'm trying," the blonde says softly, averting her stare to the ground.

"You're succeeding," Santana responds reassuringly with a wide smile and kind eyes.

Brittany looks up and shoots the Latina a matching smile before she's forcibly and quite awkwardly pulled into a hug by the small diva to her left, causing Santana to lightly chuckle.

"Thank you, Brittany," Rachel smiles as she releases the blonde.

The cheerleader just smiles kindly at the diva, and once more at Santana, before taking off.

Santana turns towards Rachel with a wide smile, taking the girl's hands into her own. "Not _too_, too bad, eh?'' she says with an arched eyebrow.

Rachel's smile matches her own and Santana pulls the diva into a hug. The pair stay in the embrace for a few moments before the Latina pulls her head back and leans down to kiss the diva, letting her hand drift up to the side of the girl's face. _We're good,_ she smiles. They exchange tender kisses for what seems like forever before Schue emerges from his office once more.

"Santana," he says pointedly from behind the Latina as he walks across the classroom staring down at some paperwork, pulling the Latina's attention, as well as her lips, away from the diva. "[I _will_ see you in class today, yes?]"

Santana rolls her eyes, aware that the vest-clad man can't see it. "Yes, Mr. Schue," she says simply.

"[Good,]" the man adds as he exits the room.

Rachel raises a questioning eyebrow up at the Latina. "What was that all about?"

Santana raises an eyebrow in return, "[You don't speak Spanish?]" Rachel's brow drops in confusion and Santana lightly chuckles. "Schue was making sure I'm coming to class," she explains simply.

A comfortable silence falls over the pair as Rachel simply nods her understanding. Santana reunites their hands, letting them swing at their sides, just staring at the diva with a smile.

"So..." Rachel starts, breaking the silence as she starts playing with the configuration of their hands, lifting them up to shoulder level. "We're actually _out_ now..." she trails off with a relieved smile.

"At least to glee," the Latina responds with a smile before leaning down to the diva's ear, speaking in a quiet whisper. "[Which means I can kiss your sexy ass whenever I want in this room... _and_ I can say inappropriate things whenever I want and you won't even know it...]" she smirks before pulling back.

Rachel shivers despite the fact she can't understand what's being said, the cheerleader's tone of voice being enough to make her feel flush.

When Santana leans back, Rachel's eyes have darkened considerably. She smiles and leans in for a chaste kiss before speaking. "I gotta go to class," she says with slight sadness.

The diva nods with an expression matching the Latina's voice. "I'll see you at lunch?" she chances with uncertainty.

Santana smiles wide, "Without a doubt."

* * *

The morning passes by uneventfully. Spanish is spent doing review for the oral exam that they would have the next week, and English is spent finishing off the rest of 'Macbeth' for the final paper the class would have to write.

When the lunch bell rings, Santana smiles and pops out of her seat, cheerfully waving to Quinn before heading off to meet up with Rachel. She stops off at her locker to grab her lunch before proceeding to the familiar back hallway.

She peeks in the window to see that Rachel is already seated at the piano bench and her smile spreads. She enters quietly, but lets the door click shut audibly behind her.

Rachel looks up with a bright smile and skips over towards the Latina, nearly tackling her back against the door, throwing her arms around the girl's shoulders and crushing her lips with a kiss. The kiss is relatively chaste, but the diva still has a blush across her cheeks when she pulls back and settles back down onto her feet.

"Well, 'hello' to you too," Santana ribs as she lets her arms drift around the diva's waist. "[Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look in these ridiculous little sweaters?]" she asks with a smirk, letting her hands drift slightly beneath the aforementioned article of clothing.

The diva smiles sheepishly with a slight blush across her cheeks before she arches an eyebrow. "I'm not entirely sure I like this whole Spanish thing... _not_ knowing what you're saying, I mean... other than that, it's actually incredibly sexy," her eyes widen at her own words and she looks down, her blush having deepened tenfold.

Santana chuckles with a wide smile, a blush threatening her own cheeks as she reaches a hand up to lift the diva's chin. When their eyes meet, Santana finds herself taken aback. As cliché as it is to say, she's convinced she could get entirely lost in the intricacies of Rachel's irises―so dark at their borders and yet fading into progressively lighter and lighter shades of chocolate as they approach the pupil. She notices a small dark spot in one of the diva's orbs. "You have a freckle in your left eye," she observes quietly as she runs her hand gently along the side of the girl's face.

Rachel smiles, "And you have one in your right eye."

Santana's not entirely sure she's ever held sustained eye contact for this long and, oddly enough, it doesn't feel uncomfortable at all. "We match," she whispers, looking down bashfully as she realizes she said it aloud.

She feels one of Rachel's hands come to rest on her cheek, and chances a glance back up. "We do," the diva nods with a serious expression, obviously referring to a lot more than their eye freckles.

Santana closes the small gap between them, pulling the diva's body almost _into_ her own, and lets her lips lightly graze the shorter girl's. Rachel sighs contentedly into the embrace and Santana deepens it, letting her tongue meet the diva's softly. As they continue their dance, Santana starts to feel a heat running throughout her body and her kisses grow more urgent, her hands starting to drift up the songstress's sweater once more, slightly hiking it upwards.

Rachel's breath hitches as her shirt starts trying to escape her body and she pulls away, taking the Latina's hands into her own and resting her forehead on Santana's. Santana groans and Rachel chuckles softly. "We may be out-ish, but we're still _in_ school," she smirks, pulling her head back before speaking again. "Also, I'm about seventy-five percent sure there's a camera somewhere in this room…" she trails off, glancing around the room to find out whether there is, in fact, a camera.

Santana chuckles slightly with a roll of her eyes, "Ok tin-hat." She releases one of the diva's hands and leads her over to take a seat on the ground, behind the whiteboard, leaning against the wall. She sits first, but the diva doesn't follow. She looks up to see the girl looking at her questioningly. "What?"

Rachel's brow is completely furrowed as she speaks. "Why on earth would we sit on the ground when there are seats all over the room?" she gestures her free arm towards the piano bench and, beyond it, the bleachers.

Santana smirks, "Well, if we sit _here_ then none of your phantom cameras will be able to see us and no one can see us through the windows." She points in the general direction of both doors with her free hand before raising her eyebrows a few times.

The diva rolls her eyes, but does take a seat on the ground after grabbing her food from atop the piano.

They eat their respective lunches before Rachel sighs contentedly. Santana reflexively throws an arm over the diva and the slight girl settles onto her shoulder.

The pair stay settled in their embrace for a while before either speaks.

"So, Christmas is coming up..." Rachel breaks the silence.

Santana raises a curious eyebrow, despite the fact the diva can't see it. "Aren't you Jewish?"

The diva shrugs, "Half... non-practicing."

Santana screws her face, "So... what do you celebrate this time of year, then?"

"Hallmark holiday," Rachel answers simply.

Santana chuckles softly. "What about your dad? He's all synagogues and yarmulkes, isn't he?"

The diva smirks. "Well yeah, he has his menorah and he does his prayers and stuff, but that's his own personal thing."

Santana nods to herself. "Ok... so you do Christmas? Like, movie-style shit?" she ventures.

Rachel chuckles lightly, "Yup. Dinner, presents, family time, watching movies, all that goodness."

Santana suddenly grows curious. "So... are _we_ exchanging presents?"

Rachel lifts her head and narrows her gaze, "Of course we are. Being my girlfriend, if you _didn't_ buy me a gift I would simply have no choice but to break up with you."

Santana raises her brow in surprise, "Oh really?"

The diva just nods. "And since you're clearly spending Christmas with me and my dads, that would probably make things pretty awkward."

Santana can't help but laugh at the diva's self-assuredness. "You know, strangely enough, I'm not sure I heard an invitation anywhere in there..."

Rachel rolls her eyes and settles her head back down before growing curious herself, wondering if she should even ask. "Do _you_ celebrate Christmas?"

The Latina laughs. "Are you kidding? My family's like hella Catholic, of course I do."

Rachel smirks, "So do you guys do all the, ahem, 'movie shit'?"

Santana's face drops slightly. "Not so much. I mean, none of my family lives here so it's pretty much just me and my mom." She sighs heavily. "We do gifts... and _I_ watch Christmas movies because I like them... but mostly my mom just does her own thing."

Rachel feels bad for having even asked but nods her understanding. The pair sit in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before the diva tries to lighten the mood.

"So... what's your favourite Christmas movie then?" she asks curiously.

Santana stays silent in contemplation for a moment before smiling wide. "'Die Hard'," she answers simply.

The diva lifts her head once more and her eyes go wide in disbelief as she slaps the Latina's shoulder. "Santana! That is _so_ not a Christmas movie. Are you serious? Please tell me you're kidding..."

Santana smirks and rolls her eyes. "Ok, 'Black Christmas'―the original of course," she adds for good measure.

Rachel's face screws slightly, "What's that?"

"Oh, it's a classic. It's about sorority girls celebrating Christmas."

The diva still looks confused. "Ok..." she draws out. "That sounds nice enough, I suppose..."

"Yeah," Santana nods. "It's pretty good. They throw a Christmas party..." she smirks before continuing. "_―despite_ the fact some creeper guy has been calling the house and scaring the shit out of them. The girls start disappearing one by one until, finally, they find out that the missing girls have been murdered by the creeper and that he's been _inside the house the entire time_."

Rachel looks absolutely mortified―half at the description of the movie and half at the Latina's choice of the movie. "That sounds horrible, how could you even..." she trails off, completely at a loss.

Santana just laughs and shakes her head. "Calm down, slugger, I'm just messing with you―though 'Black Christmas' is an _entirely _valid choice," she adds with a serious expression and a raised finger, drawing a roll of the eyes from the diva. She smiles, "I think you might actually approve of my favourite in this category."

Rachel raises her brow in expectation. "What is it?" she asks impatiently.

The Latina considers drawing out the wait even longer, but gives in, "'White Christmas'."

The diva completely lights up. "I _love_ that movie!"

Santana shakes her head sternly. "You racist," she deadpans.

Rachel just rolls her eyes once more.

The Latina chuckles lightly and shakes her head again. "Of course you love 'White Christmas', it _is_ a musical..." she trails off teasingly.

Rachel slightly glares at the girl for a moment before gasping in realization. "Oh my god, we should totally sing 'Sisters' for Glee Christmas!" she says excitedly, a look of pure joy on her face.

Santana just drops her brow in disbelief, "Um, (a) I'm not sure everyone would really _get it_ as a Christmas song, and (b) considering we're dating, singing 'Sisters' might come off as, well, a little weird..."

The diva thinks it over for a moment. "I suppose you're right," she cedes with a slight frown. "Well, what about if we just did 'White Christmas'? We can slightly alter the Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney version to fit our vocals?" she suggests with a raised brow.

The Latina smiles and nods, "I like that." She leans in and brushes their lips together once more before trying to deepen the embrace, but, as she does, the warning bell rings. She groans pronouncedly as she pulls back.

Rachel just chuckles, "We're pretty good at getting interrupted, huh?"

Santana rolls her eyes but chuckles lightly as she reluctantly moves to stand. "Let's try not to make it a habit," she ribs, reaching her hand out to help the diva up.

Rachel pulls herself up with the Latina's hand, wearing a smile. She keeps hold of the cheerleader's hand and lifts to her tiptoes, giving the girl a soft kiss before settling back down. "See you after school?"

Santana just nods, bringing the diva's small hand up to her lips before relinquishing her hold. She watches with a smile as the diva leaves the room, staring intently at her favourite body part, before leaving the room herself.

* * *

Pre-calc flies by in a flurry of review and a pop-quiz. Almost as quickly as class began, the bell is ringing and Santana is packing up her things to head off to last period. When she walks out of the classroom, she sees Puck exiting a nearby class. She shoots the boy a friendly smile and wave, and he waves in return as he approaches.

"Hey," he greets kindly. "You off to physics?"

Santana nods. "You off to shop?"

The boy nods in return before raising an eyebrow, "Walk you?"

Santana just smiles and nods once more, and the pair start a slow stroll down the hallway.

"So... I really _am_ sorry, you know," the boy starts softly, looking over to the Latina with sincerity in his eyes. "I mean, I wouldn't actually purposely fuck things up between you and..." he trails off, darting his eyes around, making a conscious effort not to mention the diva's name in the middle of the crowded hall.

The Latina nods, "I know. Even if you hadn't said it, I know. I mean, the way you stuck up for us in glee today was just... incredible." She smiles up at the boy who smiles bashfully in return and turns his gaze forward.

Santana can't help but grow curious, though. She arches an eyebrow, "So… did you just suddenly remember the rest of Saturday, or…?"

The boy chuckles a little in disbelief as he reaches out to hold the stairwell door open for the Latina. "Um, not at all, actually... Rachel told me what happened."

Santana's eyes widen, _Really?_ She keeps her gaze forward and falls silent as they work their way down the stairs.

"Have you talked to her about it?" Puck inquires with a raised brow as they reach the landing.

The Latina shakes her head. "Not at all, actually... she hasn't brought it up," she shrugs.

Puck nods, but furrows his brow as he holds the downstairs door open. "Aren't you, like, living at her house right now?"

"Yeah," she nods with a sigh.

"Don't let it fester," he says simply as he falls into stride with the girl once more.

Santana looks up with an eyebrow raised.

"If you let her hold onto it, it's just gonna build up and it's gonna end up coming out as something else. _Trust me_, I've been there," he smiles. "Just talk it out."

Santana sighs once more. It sounds so easy, but even the prospect of that specific conversation sounds completely daunting at the moment. She shakes the thought and decides to change the subject. "So what about you? Have you talked to Q at all?"

Puck sighs heavily, turning his gaze forward. "Not really... I mean we've chatted a bit, I guess, but mostly she's been avoiding me all week. I tried looking for her at lunch today, but she wasn't in the caf."

Santana chances a glance over at the boy, who is staring down at his own feet in seeming defeat.

"Sometimes I wonder if she even likes me as a friend, you know?" he says softly, looking up with sad eyes that look so out of place on his face.

The Latina narrows her gaze, "Puck, please tell me you're kidding." The boy's expression doesn't change, and Santana rolls her eyes. "Dude, if she didn't like you she would've gone all retro-Tubby on your ass by now."

Puck chuckles lightly and, as the pair stop walking, he turns to face the Latina with a slight smile. It makes Santana smile in return.

"Well," she starts with a sigh. "This is where I get off," she gestures her head to the classroom.

Puck just smirks. "You know, I could help you with that..." he trails off, earning a questioning eyebrow from the Latina. "Getting off, that is," he elaborates, raising his eyebrows a few times suggestively.

Santana just rolls her eyes and punches the boy lightly in the shoulder. "We should hang out soon, it's been a while."

"For sure," Puck smiles sincerely. "Shoot me a text on the weekend."

"Cool," the Latina nods before turning and heading into class, sending the boy a goodbye wave over her shoulder.

* * *

It's around 4 when Santana and Rachel return to the Berry household, each girl heading to their respective room to do some homework.

Santana spends about half an hour going over some calc work before she feels her abdomen vibrate. Having grown completely bored of crunching numbers, she closes her books and leans back with a stretch in her chair before reaching into her hoodie pocket to retrieve her phone. The message is from Quinn, and it's short and sweet.

'Puck is stalking me.'

Santana can't help but chuckle as she taps out a response. 'Oh yeah? Well now you know how it feels creepstar :P'

It's not long before a response comes in. ':P I was happy/surprised to see you at school today. You got better pretty fast.'

The Latina smirks. 'Well, you know what they say... Medicine is the best medicine.'

'Nerd.'

Santana chuckles before raising an eyebrow in curiosity. 'Whatever. Why are you avoiding Loserface anyway?'

'Um, were you no longer with us on Saturday?'

She rolls her eyes. 'Whatever. That's just him. You know that. You've always known that.'

'I know. Ugh, I just wish he didn't have to be such a douchecanoe ALL THE TIME.'

Santana chuckles. 'You know as well as I do that he has his moments... Like this morning in glee.'

'True, it's just too bad they're so few and far between...'

She smiles lightly. 'Just give him a chance, he might surprise you ;)'

'You know you can stop cheerleading when you're not on the field, right?'

Santana rolls her eyes. ':P whatever tubs.'

"Santana!" Rachel's voice calls from the next room, drawing another roll of the eyes from the Latina. She turns her attention back to her phone when it vibrates again, though.

'Alright, I g2g help with dinner... Ttyl?'

Santana smirks as she types. 'Yeah, I have to go have super hot sex with Rachel right now anyway.'

She laughs aloud when Quinn's response comes in: 'I am now vomiting and have no interest in dinner, so thanks for that.'

';P' she taps out quickly, hitting send before standing from her chair, still slightly chuckling. She reaches her arms up in a stretch and pulls off her cumbersome hoodie before tossing it and her phone onto the bed and heading out of the room.

Out in the hallway, Rachel is leaning against the doorframe of her own room as the Latina approaches, wearing a mischievous smile. "So..." she starts, a hint of playfulness in her voice. "Both of my dads are at work..."

Santana raises an eyebrow, "Oh really?" She smiles wide as she starts inching closer to the diva, who just nods without dropping her smile.

She reaches a hand out to grab the diva's belt loop, pulling her in so that their lips meet. Rachel's arms instinctively move to wrap around the Latina's neck, and Santana's hands start inching the diva's sweater up her torso.

Santana pulls her lips back, wearing a serious expression and slightly shaking her head. "We really need to talk about these sweaters," she breathes out as she starts taking small steps forward, slightly pushing the girl back into her own bedroom, dropping her forehead to rest on the diva's.

Rachel looks down at her sweater before looking up with those innocent cartoon eyes. "What about my sweaters?" she asks, taking slow steps back at the Latina's insistence.

"About how you should just stop wearing them altogether," Santana says flatly, her eyes drifting down the diva's slight body, her hands still playing with the garment in question.

Rachel pulls her head away and raises an eyebrow, looking positively offended. She speaks with a bit of an edge in her voice, "And what exactly would you have me wear instead?"

Santana slightly smirks as she meets the diva's eyes with her own. "Oh, I never said you should wear anything instead..."

The diva's brow furrows, "So... you just expect me to walk around in my bra all day?"

Santana shrugs with a straight face, "Well, ideally yes." She smirks and raises her eyebrows a few times suggestively.

Rachel just rolls her eyes pronouncedly.

Santana reaches one arm blindly back to throw the door shut as she uses her other to grab Rachel's sweater roughly and pull the diva's lips to hers again. Rachel moans at the sudden contact, and Santana takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss as she continues to slowly advance the pair towards the diva's bed.

When the backs of Rachel's legs hit the bed, she sits down onto the soft fabric, pulling the Latina's neck down with her, unwilling to break their embrace. Santana reaches back and removes Rachel's hands, though, before reaching out to the hem of the girl's sweater once more, tugging it up with a bit more force this time. She stops abruptly and pulls her head slightly back, opening her darkened eyes to look into the diva's―looking for a sign of either approval or deterrence.

Rachel bites her lip in hesitation but, seeing the tenderness behind the lust in the Latina's eyes, nods her head. Santana smiles wide as she pulls the diva's shirt all the way off, Rachel lifting her arms to help in the task, leaving the girl in her bra once more. Santana's mouth runs completely dry and her heart rate reaches a gallop as her eyes drift over the diva's little travelled skin a second time. She unconsciously licks her lips before leaning down to kiss the girl once more, immediately deepening the embrace. She drops down to the ground on one knee, never separating their lips, and reaches out to grab Rachel's arms and wrap them around her neck once more. She reaches out again to wrap the diva's legs around her torso before letting her hands drift up the undersides of the girl's thighs. Once she gets her hands high enough, she pulls the diva flush against her body before standing and lifting the diva from the bed briefly. She drops a knee onto the centre of the bed, reaching one of her hands to the small of Rachel's back to place the diva down so that she is lying in the middle of the bed, her head back on the pillows. Santana's own body falls flush against Rachel's, forcing their lips apart.

In the pair's new position, Santana's abs are flush against the diva's centre, her eyes staring almost straight at the girl's now heaving chest. She kisses the soft skin between Rachel's breasts before using her arms to lift herself up slightly as she struggles to catch her breath. As she looks up to Rachel's face, she can tell that the diva is trying to maintain her composure. Santana smiles again before sliding her body slightly up, knowing that the girl will feel the friction of abs against her core. She smiles even further when she hears the expected moan from the girl beneath her.

"Fuck, Santana," the diva voices gruffly.

Santana quirks an eyebrow as she leans down to the diva's ear, continuing her painfully slow slide up the girl's body. "I wish you would," she whispers before pulling away with a mischievous smile.

Rachel's eyes go entirely black at the Latina's words, and Santana is pleasantly surprised when she feels the diva's small hands starting to tug urgently at the hem of her t-shirt.

She raises an eyebrow and smirks before pushing herself up so that she's up on her knees. She pushes the diva's legs flat against the bed so that she can move to straddle the girl's pelvis. Rachel's hands drift as far up the Latina's shirt as her short arms will allow, causing Santana to slightly chuckle. She reaches down and takes her shirt by the hem, slowly inching it up her torso.

Rachel licks her lips in anticipation before biting her bottom lip, her hands desperately trying to reach further up. Santana groans at the girl beneath her, but stays upright rather than leaning forward to help the diva out, enjoying the teasing aspect of their current situation. Once her crossed arms reach her breasts, she stops and looks down at the diva thoughtfully.

"You know, I'm not entirely sure that we're ready for this," she says teasingly with a smirk, keeping her shirt hiked up around her bust.

Rachel doesn't speak, but does groan slightly before smiling in realization. She abruptly removes her hands from the Latina's abs and instead starts running one hand up and down her own abs, her other hand running down her throat and along the topsides of her breasts. The diva lightly moans and Santana's jaw drops impossibly further. Her eyes glaze over as she stares down at the girl, knowing that she's lost the upper hand in this situation.

Santana drops her shirt, completely forgetting that she was about to remove it, before reaching down and running her own hands along the diva's bare skin, her breath hitching as she does so. She massages the girl's abs for a few brief moments before starting to drift upwards, but Rachel grabs her wrists and removes her hands abruptly.

"Shirt off," the diva demands firmly.

Santana looks down briefly, having forgotten she was even wearing a shirt, before removing the offending item as quickly as she can. Once she has it off, she looks down at the diva, waiting for further instruction.

Rachel doesn't speak, but lifts herself up onto one elbow so that she can reach out the other arm and grab the Latina by the neck, tugging her down into a crushing kiss. Santana's hands start to roam along the diva's torso again, inching ever closer to the girl's bra, but when she reaches her destination, Rachel drops back onto the bed, relinquishing her hold on the Latina's neck and using her hands to remove the cheerleader's once again. Santana groans heavily and drops her head onto the diva's shoulder. Rachel smirks slightly, reaching a hand between their bodies to push the Latina back up. Santana reluctantly rises, using an arm to prop herself up.

"I get to touch, too," the diva breathes out as she reaches a slightly hesitant hand up to Santana's face. She runs it along the girl's cheek, down her throat, along her collarbone, and down to one of her breasts. She stops, though, seemingly having no idea what to do.

Santana looks down her own body to see the diva's stilled hand sitting on her chest before looking up at the diva questioningly.

Rachel blushes under the scrutiny, "I've never really done this before..."

Santana smiles kindly and nods reassuringly. She reaches her free hand between their bodies, placing it on top of Rachel's before guiding the hand further down. She watches the diva's face as she follows the path of their hands. She brushes diva's hand along the topside of her breast and down the inside before moving the girl's thumb to graze her nipple through her bra. Santana moans slightly at the contact and Rachel lets out a chuckle of amazement, going wide-eyed as the Latina's nipple instantly hardens against the light contact. Rachel looks back up into Santana's eyes with the same look of amazement, as if she had just made some new discovery.

"Just do what feels right," Santana says simply as she removes her hand from atop the diva's, leaving it in place. Rachel seems to take the hint, looking down as she starts to move her hand around again and bringing her other hand up to join in.

Santana moves her now free hand to brush some hair out of the diva's face, letting her hand come to rest on the diva's cheek, her thumb running along the girl's chin. As Rachel's eyes meet her own once more, she comes to what should be a disturbing revelation: she's no longer doing this for fun, or out of need, or out of lust; she's doing it because she wants to be intimate with this girl, she _wants_ to walk her through this, she wants this to come naturally, and she wants it to be, in a word, perfect. She feels a sensation she's never felt before wash over her, and she leans down to kiss the diva with the most pure intentioned kiss she's probably ever delivered.

When she pulls back from the ostensibly chaste kiss, Rachel is looking up at her with a questioning eyebrow. She just smiles, running her fingers as well as her eyes along the diva's face, seemingly trying to memorize the girl's features.

Rachel stills her hands and furrows her brow, "What is it?"

Santana smiles even further as she leans back, taking the diva's hands into her own before she speaks. "It's all good," she says softly, more to herself than to anyone else, as she runs her eyes over the diva, drawing an even more confused expression in return.

Rather than elaborate, Santana simply leans down to kiss the diva again, and when the diva starts licking at her lower lip, she feels herself shift into drive again. She opens her mouth and lets the diva in, releasing the girl's hands so that she can start running them along her smooth skin once more.

As Rachel's hands start running along her body again, Santana becomes cognizant of the sensations she seems to have been ignoring the past few minutes; and when one of the diva's hands grazes her breast again, she moans into the girl's mouth. She can feel herself getting worked up again, and she wants the diva to touch more of her.

She sits up abruptly, drawing a groan from the girl beneath her, who tries to follow her up. Santana lightly pushes the diva back down by her sternum, and the girl obeys. Santana runs her hands slowly up her own abs, now earning a moan and hitch in breathing from the girl beneath her, before starting to reach behind her back. Rachel's hands move to the Latina's thighs and start to massage the firm muscles, and she licks her lips as she registers what's about to take place. Santana reaches back to the clasp of her bra and undoes it before sliding her hands up to her shoulders and starting to inch the straps down.

"Rachel, I―_oh my god_," a loud, deep voice interjects.

Santana's head snaps left to see David standing in the doorway with a hand raised above his eyes. _Holy fuck_. Santana instinctively crosses her arms over her chest and rolls off of the diva with such force that she finds herself falling off of the bed, her shoulder hitting the ground hard with a heavy thud.

"Dad!" Rachel squeaks, frantically trying to pull her comforter up over her half-naked upper body.

Santana is nearly hyperventilating on the floor, but is beyond elated that she is on the far side of the bed―between it and the desk―and hidden from view. She quickly reaches her arms back and fumbles to do up her bra again before rolling onto her back and starting a frantic visual search for her shirt. When she comes up empty, she raises a hand to her forehead, dropping her head back onto the carpet and staring up at the ceiling in complete shock. _Holy fucking hell. What the fuck. Holy shit._

A few minutes of silence pass before Santana starts to wonder if the man has left the room altogether. She doesn't dare chance a glance up, though, assuming the diva on the bed would have let her know if the coast were clear. Her suspicion is confirmed when she hears the man sigh heavily.

"Rachel," he starts exhaustedly. Santana can immediately read the contained anger in his voice. "I want to see you downstairs―preferably more clothed―in five minutes flat. Got it?"

Santana doesn't hear a reply, but assumes the diva must have given some sort of nonverbal response when she hears the door almost slam shut and rattle against the doorframe. She breathes out a sigh of relief, but quickly grows concerned about the girl sitting on the bed. She sits up and glances over at Rachel, who has her legs pulled up against her chest and is rocking back and forth, staring straight ahead blankly.

"Are you ok?" the Latina ventures softly. The diva doesn't react at all, almost as if she didn't even hear the question. Santana stands and moves to sit on the side of the bed, looking down at her lap and wringing her hands together. A couple minutes pass before Santana turns towards the girl again and reaches out a hand, hesitantly placing it on the diva's shoulder.

Rachel pulls away from the Latina's touch and immediately stands, looking around the room frantically for her sweater. She paces over to the piece of clothing and picks it up, staring at it for a few seconds before throwing it at the wall. "Fuck," she says aloud as she falls to a seated position on the ground, her back leaning against the bed frame.

Santana stares at the girl agape, but has no idea what to do. She stands and walks around to the other side of the bed. She picks the sweater up off of the ground and flips it the right way out before walking up to the diva. She gets down onto her knees in front of the girl and throws the fabric over her shoulder before reaching her hands down to grab the diva's and raise the girl's arms above her head.

Rachel just averts her gaze as Santana redresses her. The Latina settles back onto her heels and starts to brush her hands through the diva's hair, trying to make it look a little less like afterfuck.

Rachel stands up wordlessly and walks over to the vanity. She picks up her brush and starts to run it through her heavily mussed hair, violently ripping out the knots that have formed.

Santana sighs as she watches the diva, wishing she could fix it all with some witty remark as per usual, but right now she can't think of a single thing to say.

"Rachel!" David's firm voice booms from downstairs.

Rachel slightly jumps at the sound and breathes out a long sigh. She simply places the brush back down on the vanity before heading out of the room, closing the door behind her without so much as a glance back at the Latina.

Santana stands from her position on the ground and starts pacing around the room, at a complete loss as to what she should be doing in this situation. _Holy fuck_, her mind repeats, it seeming to be her central mantra at the moment. She suddenly stops in her tracks and stares at the wall that borders the guestroom, briefly considering a hasty retreat to her safe haven as of late. She sighs, though, as she realizes that she should probably wait for the diva's return. If the girl is going to be falling apart, Santana wants to be there to put her back together.

Having no idea what else to do, she walks over to pick her t-shirt up off the ground and pulls it back on. She looks around for a few more pensive moments before sitting on the diva's bed, grabbing the remote from the nightstand and turning on the tv. She doesn't adjust the tv beyond turning it on, having no idea what's playing on the screen in front of her as she stares blankly at it, an endless number of scenarios running through her mind.

_He could kick me out. He could ground her. He could forbid her to see me. He could lock her up in a convent. He could axe murder me and use his surgical skills to remove my organs and sell them on black market and then bury my body in the backyard... ok, maybe I'm getting carried away here._ She shakes her head.

When Rachel finally returns, Santana has no idea how much time has passed. She's spent the entire time locked inside her own mind, catastrophizing the situation to no end.

Rachel closes the door behind her and makes towards the bed, collapsing onto her stomach with an exhausted sigh. "He's such a hypocrite," she breathes out, her head buried in a pillow.

Santana flicks off the tv before shifting to lie down next to the diva, rolling onto her side to face the girl. She lightly pushes the diva's shoulder, trying to get her to roll onto her side as well so that they are facing each other. Rachel reluctantly obliges.

The Latina raises an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

The diva sighs again. "_He_'s gay, yet he has this huge issue with me dating a girl. Seems a little backwards, doesn't it?"

Santana furrows her brow. "Rach, I don't think your dad has a problem with you dating a girl..." she hesitates and sighs. "I think he has a problem with you dating _me_, specifically."

Rachel's brow rises and she looks at the Latina almost apologetically. "Oh Santana, that's not true..." she reaches out to brush some stray hair out of the cheerleader's face reassuringly.

Santana chuckles a little and shakes her head, reaching up to take the diva's hand into her own. "Except yeah, yeah it is." She kisses the diva's hand and sighs deeply before continuing. "He knows our history, he knows all the horrible things I've done to you... it's understandable that he's not comfortable with me being this close to you―in a position where I could really fuck you over if that were my intention."

Rachel looks at the cheerleader with complete vulnerability. "_Is_ that your intention?"

Santana sighs. While she would usually be offended by such a question, she can't be while the diva looks so completely broken. "How can you even ask me that..." she says softly before bringing the diva's hand up to her lips again. "Even if I were the greatest actress in the world, I could never fake _this_." She presses the diva's hand flat against her chest, her heart rate quickening at the contact.

Rachel doesn't show any sort of discernable reaction, so the Latina shifts so that she's sitting up and looking down at the diva, the girl's eyes following her movement. "I _am_ sorry," she says sincerely, trying to push the sincerity through her eyes. "I don't know whether you want or need to hear that, but I need to say it." She takes a deep breath, and brushes some flyaways behind the diva's ear. "I'm sorry, Rachel," she reiterates, her voice almost mouse-like.

Rachel simply looks away, and Santana sighs. After a few moments of thick silence, she tugs on the diva's hand, trying to get her to sit up. The girl reluctantly obeys once more, but refuses to meet the Latina's eyes.

"I'm serious," she assures the diva, reaching out to brush some stray hair behind her ear once more. "All the slushies, all the names, all the everything." She pauses hesitantly before adding the final part, "The sleeping with Puck."

Rachel still doesn't look up.

Santana raises her free hand to the diva's cheek, gently turning the girl to face her, and their eyes finally meet. "I'm sorry. And if there's anything you need to know, anything I need to tell you to make you believe that, just ask." She drops her hand and takes the diva's other hand into her own as well.

Rachel looks down at their hands briefly before staring at the Latina thoughtfully for a few moments. "Why did Brittany slushie me?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Santana's eyes widen and she looks down, knowing that there are two very distinct outcomes that could arise from telling Rachel the truth. On the one, very unlikely hand, Rachel might be flattered by the fact that Santana was thinking about _her_ in such an intimate situation. On the other, almost certain hand, she'll be broken by the fact that Santana slept―or, well, _almost_ slept―with Brittany during the early stages of their courtship.

The girl in front of her sighs and moves to get up, obviously convinced that no answer is coming, but Santana tugs her back down. The Latina stares deeply into chocolate eyes as she speaks. "You want the truth?"

Rachel looks at her incredulously. "No, I want you to lie to me," she says with a roll of her eyes, her words dripping with sarcasm.

Santana looks down at their hands and takes a deep breath, releasing it as a long sigh before speaking again. "The night before that... well, me and B were kind of... I guess 'fooling around' is the best way to put it... and things progressed... and, well... I kind of..." she chances a glance up at the diva, who is looking at her with vacant eyes. "I called her 'Rachel'." She slightly grimaces, anticipating a more than slightly negative reaction.

The girl's eyes widen briefly, but then look elsewhere. After a few moments the diva turns back to look at Santana again, looking entirely conflicted. She groans audibly, "I hate this. I don't even know whether I should slap you or kiss you right now..."

Santana smiles softly. "Well, if I get a vote, I'd prefer the latter..."

The diva's expression slightly softens, and Santana's sure she can even see the beginnings of a smile across the girl's lips. "So, have you slept with anyone _else_ in the past week that I should know about?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

The Latina just shakes her head.

Rachel stares pointedly at the girl, looking completely vulnerable. "And we're _exclusive_ now, right?"

Santana sighs lightly. "Yes, I suppose I could give up my harem for you," she offers playfully with a bit of smirk, but also with pure genuineness.

Rachel truly smiles for the first time since she's returned to the room.

"For the record," the Latina starts. "Next time we should probably do this in _my_ room." She gestures her head to their bordering wall. "There's little to no chance that either of your dads would walk in there without knocking..." she offers with a smile.

Rachel smiles further, not missing the fact that the Latina just referred to the guestroom as _hers_.

Santana lifts one of the girl's hands to her lips, placing a soft kiss on it before speaking again. "So, are we ok?" she asks, unsure if she's ever felt so emotionally vulnerable.

The diva smirks slightly. "It's all good," she says simply, echoing the Latina's words from earlier.

"It's all good," Santana nods before closing the gap between them, pressing a soft but firm kiss on Rachel's lips. She lets her forehead rest on the diva's, "It's only you, ok?"

Rachel smiles wide and nods, "Ok."

Santana pulls her head back in thought. "We need to get t-shirts."

Rachel just raises a highly confused eyebrow.

"'I Survived Davidgate 2010'," the Latina deadpans.

Rachel chuckles and rolls her eyes before lying back on the bed once more.

Santana leans back down onto her side, propping her head on her hand to look down at the diva. "So... am I getting kicked out or what?" she asks lightly with a raised brow, reaching over to take one of the girl's hands into her own.

Rachel softly chuckles once more. "No, you're safe... for now. He was mostly just telling me how I need to watch out for myself... oh, and saying no sex in the house."

Santana raises an eyebrow. "If that's true, then I have no idea how your fathers stay married."

Rachel's face washes over in disgust and she rolls onto her side to face the Latina, slapping her shoulder before pointing a threatening finger at her. "My dads do _not_ do that, ok?"

Santana chuckles and rolls her eyes. "Ok, ok. This is an entirely sexless house," she cedes before smirking. "Guess that just means we'll just have to start hanging out at my mom's..." she trails off, raising her eyebrows a few times suggestively.

Rachel rolls her eyes but then furrows her brow.

Santana sees it and raises a questioning eyebrow. "What is it?"

The diva readjusts the pillow under her head before speaking. "I mean, I've just noticed... you call the guestroom _your_ room, but you call your house _mom's_ house..."

Santana looks past the diva in thought. Truth is, she hadn't even noticed she was doing it until now. She shrugs. "I guess I've just never felt _at home_ at my mom's house."

"But you do here?"

The Latina blushes slightly, "Well yeah, I think so. I mean, yes. When I'm here... when I'm with you... I'm home." She looks up with hesitant eyes.

Rachel completely lights up for a few moments before her face drops and she raises an eyebrow instead. "Wait a minute... did you just quote 'Finding Nemo'?"

Santana smirks and shrugs, "Paraphrased, maybe."

Rachel leans up to kiss the Latina before settling back down. "I'm ok with that," she smiles.

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**Wow, so this chapter turned out to be quite a bit more dramatic than I had anticipated. But, on the bright side, we got a lot of pressing issues out of the way... or at least out into the open... *evil laugh* ;) Onward ho!**

**And the song that Puck sings is 'Sorry To A Friend' by Edwin McCain.**

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**Extra note: **For anyone wondering about the "_**Why can't I ever feel that way?**_" line from Santana last chapter... I'm sorry I left it as such a throwaway. In case you want to skip the big explanation and just want the short and sweet answer: She's insecure. She doesn't think she feels enough, and she _doesn't_ because she doesn't let herself.

The first line of this entire fic is _'I should be happy' _and it's shortly followed by _'Why aren't I happy?'_. This is an important starting point because it shows right away how insecure Santana is. The first statement shows her insecurity with her own feelings―she most often thinks she should be feeling something other than what she's actually experiencing (another example being when she thinks she _'should hate Rachel'_.) The second statement is simple self-shaming (even self-loathing) because she can't live up to this idealized vision of what she thinks she _should_ be feeling. Seeing the picture of Finn looking completely elated on Rachel's arm is like a slap in the face because it brings Santana's insecurities to the surface. Seeing that glorified emotion that she can't even hope to grasp, she feels jealous, like her own feelings are somehow inferior or inadequate (back to the shaming.)

My theory of why she'd be like this is simple: I believe that thisfic!Santana would have deep-seeded abandonment issues. Between having a father who left and an absentee mother, Santana knows nothing but self-reliance. She doesn't want to let anything in. If she lets herself feel, she maks herself vulnerable, and that's not something she wants―to open herself up to being hurt. Of course, as the story has gone on, cracks have formed in her facade (ohai character development!) and this should, ideally, continue... but she's not gonna do a complete 180 in the, what, two-three weeks she's been hanging out with Rachel when she's probably spent a good portion of her formative years reinforcing her walls.

To simplify this entire mess: Some people beat themselves up about their appearance, Santana beats herself up about her feelings. It all stems from the same place: self-esteem issues.

*shrug* Hope that helps clarify :) I probably agonized more over this explanation than I do over actually writing the chapters lol.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Sorry I missed an update guys... busy, busy, emotionally horrible week. Bright side? This chapter is super light-hearted :) Hope you enjoy!**

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**Previously, on IYH:**

"[Santana] shakes her head and continues her tour of [Rachel's] room [...] running her hand along the length of the diva's desk. As she reaches the end, she notices something that makes her stop and quirk and eyebrow―Rachel's iPhone, complete with its hideous pink rhinestone case, still plugged in and charging. Santana smirks as a sudden idea rushes over her. _Fucking awesome,_ she smiles as she takes the phone between her hands."

* * *

Friday morning Santana wakes to the alarm on her phone. She turns to grab the device and frowns as she squints at the time―6am―collapsing back onto the pillow with a groan. Morning cheerios practices are always the worst. As if mornings in general weren't bad enough, there would be yelling and flipping and Sue Sylvester with a megaphone... _Ugh, I wonder if there's coffee in this house_. She reluctantly rolls out of bed and heads to her cheerios bag, grabbing her uniform before heading off to the washroom to start her morning routine.

The previous night had been relatively uneventful post-Davidgate. Kevin had come home late with takeout for everyone, unintentionally providing a more than welcome opportunity to avoid dealing with the fallout. He and David had eaten in the living room while Rachel and Santana dined upstairs in a television-assisted mutual silence.

When Santana re-emerges from the bathroom, feeling at least slightly humanlike again, she hears noise downstairs. She takes a few silent steps before leaning around the corner to chance a glance down the staircase, catching a glimpse of David as he walks out of the front door. _Thank you,_ she sighs in relief. She's way too tired to have a run-in with The Wall right now.

As she approaches the guestroom, she hears rustling coming from Kevin and David's bedroom, figuring that Kevin must also be up and about. She tosses her pyjamas into the open room before heading to the far end of the hall.

She raises her hand and knocks on the door semi-nervously. After a few moments, the door opens to reveal Kevin standing in a pink bathrobe, looking absolutely zombie-like.

"Hey," he nearly groans, the unmistakable gruff of sleep still in his voice as he runs a heavy hand over his face.

"Hey," Santana greets in kind before smirking and raising an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

Kevin rolls his eyes. "Too early," he answers simply, a massive yawn following shortly after.

The Latina nods before she speaks, dropping the volume of her voice significantly. "Um, I kind of wanted to ask you for a favour... but I don't want Rachel to know..." she trails off with a hesitant smile.

Kevin steps back, waving for the girl to enter, and Santana smiles as she walks past the man and into the room. He closes the door before gesturing for the Latina to have a seat in an armchair. Santana sits down, and Kevin walks over to the bed to take a seat facing the Latina. "So what's up?" he yawns out.

"Ok, so I kind of have an idea of something I want me and Rachel to do tonight, but I'll need access to a vehicle..."

"Ok," the man nods in slight confusion. "So take Rachel's car."

Santana shakes her head slightly, "Yeah, see, I don't think she'd let me drive, and then it wouldn't be a surprise."

Kevin's brow furrows. "Why wouldn't she let you drive? You _do_ have a license, don't you?"

The Latina rolls her eyes. "Yes, I have a license... I'm actually a really good driver―very safe," she adds as an afterthought berfore smirking. "And don't act like you don't know she'd never let me drive her precious little shitbox, even if I were the best driver in the world."

"Hey," the man chides, semi-playfully. "I _gave_ her that 'precious little shitbox'... a little respect, please?"

Santana chuckles, but decides to continue on to her point. "Yeah, see normally I'd just take my own car, but it doesn't have enough trunk space for what I'm planning... so I was hoping I could borrow the SUV..." she looks at the man with a pleading smile.

Kevin raises an eyebrow. "Are you planning to murder my daughter?" he deadpans.

Santana just furrows her brow and shakes her head. "She's far too feisty; it'd be too much work."

The man chuckles, "Ok... so are you going to tell me what you _do_ have planned?"

The Latina smiles playfully, "Let's just say it's something that she probably wouldn't choose to do herself..."

Kevin raises a curious eyebrow before lightly chuckling and shaking his head. "Ok, kiddo. When I get home from work the beast is all yours," he smiles.

Santana's smile widens, "Thanks, Kevin."

The man nods before standing. "Ok, now go away before my tired mind clues into what I just agreed to."

Santana just chuckles as she stands from the chair and heads to the door. "Have a good one," she smiles before exiting.

"You too, kiddo..." Kevin smiles, but it quickly turns into a smirk. "And next time at least throw a sock on the doorknob, ok?" he teases, obviously much more awake now, before shutting the door once more.

Santana's eyes slightly widen, and she's suddenly glad her back is to the man as she heads back to the guestroom to pack her bags. It's only a few moments before she's out in the hallway again, but she pauses at the top of the stairwell as she realizes that her lack of car means she has no way to school. She looks at her watch―30 minutes until practice. She sighs as she realizes that the walk from the Berry household to McKinley is at _least_ half an hour. She's going to be late, and being late means one thing: laps.

She heads down to the entryway and slips on her boots, but, as she's pulling on her jacket, she hears something that makes her quirk an eyebrow: singing. She nearly walks around the entire main floor searching for the source of the sound before realizing that it's coming from the basement.

She works her way down the stairs, and a large smile spreads across her face when she makes it to the doorway of the exercise room. Rachel is going all out on the cross-trainer with her headphones in, completely belting out the lyrics to Lady Gaga's 'Born This Way'. Santana leans onto the doorframe for a few moments, just watching the diva―the beads of sweat forming on her throat and chest, the way her breasts bounce up and down in her sports bra, the way her abs contract as she moves, the way her leg muscles shift below her oh-so-short running shorts.

Santana actually finds herself growing a little uncomfortable with the sudden warmth running throughout her body and shakes her head, trying to remove the flush from her face. She takes a deep breath and decides she should probably make her presence known. She pushes off of the door and slowly inches her way into the diva's line of vision, trying to avoid scaring her unnecessarily.

It's only when Santana waves that the diva finally catches sight of her, almost having a heart attack as she does. "Santana!" she nearly yells, locking her leg muscles and almost falling off of the machine as its momentum keeps it moving. Santana slightly winces at the volume of Rachel's voice, but can't help but chuckle at the situation.

Once the diva recovers, she reaches an arm forward to turn off the machine before looking at the Latina with a wide smile. "What are you doing up?" she asks, again at a volume that is nearly deafening in the silent house.

Santana shakes her head with a smile and points to her own ears, indicating that Rachel should take out her earphones. The diva does so as she steps off of the machine, still looking at the cheerleader questioningly.

"I have cheerios," Santana explains softly.

Rachel looks at her discerningly as she takes a long swig from her water bottle. Her breath is slightly ragged as she speaks. "And how exactly are you planning to get there?" she asks with an unimpressed tone, picking her towel up from the frame of the machine and blotting dry her throat and neck.

The Latina just shrugs. "Walk, I guess."

The diva's eyes widen, "Santana!" She drops her towel-wielding hand abruptly. "That is a thirty minute walk, minimum! _In the snow_!"

Santana just nods, "Yes, yes it is. You _do_ know that the world doesn't stop turning when it snows, right?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Forget it!" she says resolutely, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Have you even had any breakfast?"

The Latina looks down sheepishly, "Well no, but I don't usually ha―"

Rachel shakes her head before interrupting. "Go get something to eat," she orders, pointing a finger at the stairs. "Give me ten minutes to get ready and I'll drive you."

Santana looks at the diva wide eyed and agape, weight leaned to one side and ready to strike, but all she does is scoff and shake her head. It's just too early to argue with the diva. Not to mention that with a ride from Rachel's house―which is much closer to school than her own―she might actually make it to practice on time and avoid laps. "Fine," she cedes with a sigh.

Rachel smiles before approaching quickly, simply turning Santana around and pushing her towards the stairs once she arrives. "Move it along, butchie," she instructs as the pair move single file down the hall.

Santana looks over her shoulder agape, but turns her gaze forward again when she almost trips over a stair. She jogs up the stairs at the diva's insistence, but turns to look at the girl incredulously again once they reach the main floor. "Seriously?"

Rachel just keeps walking towards the main stairs. "Go eat," she says firmly, shooting a pointed glare at the Latina.

Santana rolls her eyes and groans but does as instructed, heading into the kitchen to grab an apple.

Within Rachel's promised 10 minutes the girls are in the car and on the way to WMHS.

Santana turns her head towards the driver, raising a curious eyebrow. "What are you doing up this early anyway? And working out, too..." she shudders at the thought.

"Oh, it's my routine. I get up at six every morning to train," the diva answers simply.

Santana nods, still looking at the diva, her eyes starting to drift down. _So that's where those abs came from..._ She starts to feel flush at the thought and averts her stare forward.

They stop at a red light and Rachel starts to fiddle with the in-dash radio, having grown tired of commercials. She stops on one particular station that happens to be playing a song she likes. "Oh my god, I _love_ this song!" she remarks as she shifts her hand to turn the volume up before looking up at the Latina excitedly.

"Me too," Santana smiles.

Rachel turns her head back forward and starts bobbing her head to the music as she starts driving again. Santana chuckles but finds herself nodding along to the beat as well, and when the chorus comes, they both belt it out:

"Want you to make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world  
Like I'm the only one that you'll ever love  
Like I'm the only one who knows your heart  
Only girl in the world...

"Like I'm the only one that's in command  
'Cause I'm the only one who understands  
Like I'm the only one who knows your heart  
Only one..."

They turn to each other with goofy grins, each wearing a bit of a blush, both quickly averting their eyes. As Santana turns her gaze forward once again, her grin spreads into a full-on smile, one that stays with her the rest of the ride.

Santana only breaks out of her happy daze when she feels the car shift into park. She looks around to see that they've pulled right up to the side door, and she looks down at her watch to see that she still has just over five minutes before the start of practice. She sighs her relief before turning towards the girl in the driver's seat with a shy smile. "Thanks for the ride... you didn't have to, you know."

Rachel smiles and nods, "I know. I wanted to. In fact, I practically forced you into the car..." she ribs.

The Latina just smiles and slightly shakes her head in return.

"So, I'll see you at lunch?" the diva ventures with a raised eyebrow.

Santana smiles hesitantly, looking over at Rachel uncertainly. "Um, actually, I was thinking about eating lunch in the caf today... if you're ok with that." The diva's face slightly drops. "I mean, it's just I haven't really hung out with B in forever... and after yesterday and her defence against the Finnquisition..."

Rachel looks down with a slight chuckle, before turning back to the Latina with a smile and a nod. "Ok. I'll see you after school then."

Santana just nods before looking around, making sure that no one's walking by or watching them. Once she's convinced the coast is clear, she reaches over and places a firm hand on the diva's neck, pulling her in for a kiss. When she pulls back, Rachel is wearing a smile the width of her face.

"See you after school," Santana smiles in return before starting to open the door. Rachel turns back towards the front of the car, ready to leave, but Santana abruptly drops back into her seat and leans over to kiss the diva on the cheek, pulling away once more with a wink. "Have a nice day."

Rachel looks down with a heavy blush, but an unmistakable smile.

* * *

Both practice and morning classes pass by in a blur, so busy that they barely make a mark in time. Santana had been, as expected, completely reamed out by Sue at practice, and despite making it on time she was made to run laps practically the entire time anyway. When the lunch bell rings, Santana is already utterly exhausted. She sighs and leans back to stretch before turning to face Quinn, who's packing up her things, with a shy smile.

"So... I'm thinking I'm gonna come eat in the caf today," she says simply as she slides her own books into her bag.

Quinn sits back upright and looks at Santana as if she just told her UFOs are real. "Um, ok...?" she draws out warily, arching an eyebrow. "Did you and Rachel get in a fight or something?"

Santana slightly smirks and shakes her head. "No, I just figure that with everything that's been happening lately, I've been neglecting people..." she trails off lamely.

"You mean B," Quinn surmises.

The Latina nods.

Quinn sighs and moves to stand, "Well ok. I mean, I don't see anyone having a problem with that. I bet B will even be happy to see you," she smiles.

Santana stands with a bright smile. If there's one thing she wants more than anything right now, it's to make things right with Brittany. "So, who do you guys sit with these days anyway?" she asks as the pair exit the classroom.

"Just Kurcedes most of the time," she answers over her shoulder. "Sometimes the football guys will pop by, but that's about it."

The Latina nods as the pair fall into stride. They stop off at each of their lockers to grab their lunches, making small talk about their upcoming English paper on their roundabout route to the cafeteria.

They enter the bustling room through the main doorway and make their way towards the back corner―the area designated for the social underlings of WMHS. As they pass the cheerios' table, they are met with a mixture of glares, whispering and laughter.

Quinn slightly turns her head back towards the Latina, who is flipping the bird to the all-red table. "What's that all about?" the blonde inquires, her eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Santana sighs. "Growing dissent, I suppose. Some of the baby cheerios are getting a little too mouthy for their own good..." She lightly groans thinking about it. "But, they have the majority now. Since you left and half the squad graduated, there aren't a lot of us old folks to keep them in line this year."

Quinn nods her understanding, "Worried about a potential mutiny?"

"It's a definite possibility... I don't think Sue will put up with their bullshit, though," the Latina muses aloud as they approach the glee table, where Brittany is sitting with her back to the approaching pair, directly across from Kurt and Mercedes.

"Holy shit," Kurt voices as he looks up at the approaching duo in surprise, his tone causing the other two table occupants to look up as well. "I can't believe my eyes. I didn't think you ever emerged from your cave anymore," he smirks at the Latina.

Santana rolls her eyes before they meet Brittany's, which are filled with happiness and surprise. The Latina lets a soft smile spread across her own lips before the blonde's expression shifts to match her own.

"Right?" Quinn adds with a chuckle, moving to take the seat next to Brittany.

"So are you actually going to join us mere mortals for lunch?" Mercedes asks with a bit of playfulness.

Santana raises an eyebrow, "Ok, not if everyone keeps making a joke out of it." She shoots for biting but comes off as playful as a bit of a chuckle escapes her own lips mid-sentence.

She starts to feel awkward, though, still standing behind a now-seated-Quinn and Brittany. She pokes Quinn's shoulder, causing the ex-cheerio to look up with an eyebrow raised. Santana just gestures her head for the girl to move over, and Quinn rolls her eyes and slightly mumbles under her breath as she does slide into the next seat so that the Latina can sit next to Brittany.

Santana takes the seat and leans down to her bag to retrieve her lunch. When she sits back up, Kurt and Mercedes are whispering amongst themselves across the table. When Kurt notices her stare, he lightly shoves Mercedes' shoulder.

"So..." she draws out, as both she and the small boy lean across the table slightly in interest. "We'd be lying if we said we weren't curious... how long have you and..." she glances around to make sure no one's listening before dropping the volume of her voice. "_Rachel_ been...?" She moves her hands together in a mashing motion to indicate what she means.

Santana sighs and looks over to Brittany, who is looking down at her lap, before glancing over at the gossip queens across the table. "Only since Saturday," she replies flippantly before taking a bite of her sandwich, hoping the duo will let it be.

Kurt raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "That did _not_ look like a beginning..." he trails off thoughtfully.

Santana can feel Brittany shifting uncomfortably next to her and she looks at the boy across the table with a pleading expression, slightly gesturing her head towards the blonde cheerleader before shaking her head, trying to let him know this is neither the time nor the place to be having this discussion.

Kurt's face washes over in realization as he chances a glance over at the blonde and he nods his understanding. "So..." he starts, trying to think of something, _anything_ to talk about other than the giant pink elephant that has migrated to the table. "New years!" he remarks awkwardly and with a bit too much excitement before breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Is everyone coming to Puck's party?" Mercedes saves the boy. "'Cause you know it's gonna be off the hook," she remarks, exchanging a loose high five with the boy next to her.

Both Brittany and Santana nod, but Quinn just sighs and drops her head onto her hand. "Probably not," she vocalizes, causing the table to turn their attentions, as well as their raised eyebrows, towards her. "I think I'm just gonna hang with my mom," she adds tiredly with a weak wave of her hand.

"Bullshit." Santana says firmly, looking at the ex-cheerio with a furrowed brow.

Quinn just rolls her eyes. "Why would I come? So that Puck can get inappropriately drunk and manhandle me? No, thank you."

The Latina is incredulous. "So instead you're just gonna sit at home and watch your mom..." her eyes widen and she trails off, realizing that they're in company that probably doesn't know the entire story behind Quinn's home life. She shifts gears, "You _know_ I'd have your back if he started getting too hands-y... plus, it's _new years._ You _have_ to celebrate it with your friends," she smiles softly at the girl.

"Absolutely!" Mercedes chimes in. "Girl, you _have_ to come to Puck's party, you know it's where we're all gonna be," she winks with a wide smile.

Quinn's lips actually start to curl up at Mercedes' words, the blonde still feeling a sense of camaraderie with the girl after what she did for her last year.

"We'd really miss you if you weren't there..." Kurt trails off with a kind smile.

Brittany leans forward over the table to get a word in edgewise. "S is right, you know. How you spend new years is how you're going to spend the rest of your year. You want to spend it with your friends," she smiles.

Quinn stares deeply into the blonde cheerleader's eyes before she nods slightly. "Ok fine," she cedes with a playful sigh, her expression immediately softening. "I'm in. Party on."

Cheers happen around the table and Santana smiles wide before turning towards Brittany in thanks, automatically reaching a hand out to squeeze the girl's bare thigh. She immediately retracts her hand, though. "I'm sorry," she says quietly, looking down with a bit of a blush.

Brittany shakes her head. "It's ok," she assures the Latina softly, reaching down to retrieve the girl's retreating hand and link their pinkies. "You don't have to be so weird around me. We're still friends."

Santana looks up from their pinkies to the blonde's face with a sheepish smile. "_Best_ friends," she corrects softly. Brittany's smile spreads, and her heart lightly flutters as her own smile mirrors the blonde's. _We're gonna make this work_.

* * *

By the time the final bell rings, Santana has nearly fallen asleep on her physics textbook, and on the ride home she nearly falls asleep leaning on the window. When she and Rachel finally get back to the Berry household, there's no question what her plan is: she immediately heads up into the guestroom and strips down to take a nap.

She wakes to the sound of her phone vibrating and turns towards it feeling completely groggy. She reaches out and grabs the device, looking at the time first―5:23―before clicking through to see the new text message.

'Wanna hang tonite?' the message from Puck reads.

Santana groans before sitting up and tapping out a response. 'Plans with Rach. Tomorrow?'

'Cool' comes the simple response.

Santana yawns and rubs her near empty stomach, starting to feel the beginnings of hunger. Truth be told, she just wants to go back to sleep, but she knows she should get up so that her and Rachel can head out while it's still somewhat light outside.

She rolls out of bed and dresses herself in 2 layers of jeans and countless layers of shirts before silently heading out into the hall. Rachel's door is open and Santana peeks in to see the diva seated on her bed watching television. She just leans onto the doorframe with an eyebrow raised, interested to see how long it'll take the girl to notice her.

It's a few moments before Rachel does turn her head and flinches in surprise. "Sometimes I think you're honestly _trying_ to give me a heart attack."

Santana lightly chuckles. "So..." she starts, looking down in slight nervousness and picking at her nails. "I kind of have plans for us tonight..." she trails off, looking up with a slight smile.

Rachel raises an eyebrow. "What, another party?"

The Latina shakes her head, "Nope. I was thinking more me-you plans."

The diva's face splits into a wide smile before abruptly dropping to a pout. "But _I_ was supposed to plan our first date..."

Santana rolls her eyes but smiles. "Then don't think of it as a 'date'. Think of it as an opportunity to hang out with the hottest chick in the school. I mean, who wouldn't want that?" she winks.

Now it's Rachel who rolls her eyes before growing curious. "Usually I know the location of an outing before I agree to it..." she trails off, fishing for information.

Santana just shrugs. "Well then I guess you'll just have to trust me," she smirks, taking a look over the diva's outfit before speaking again. "Though you may want to dress a bit warmer..."

Rachel's brow drops completely. "This is truly sounding worse by the minute."

The Latina chuckles and shakes her head slightly before actually entering the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She takes a deep breath before putting on her best pout, making her eyes wide and watery, and looking up at the diva. "Please?"

Rachel laughs. "Oh my god, is head cheerio Santana Lopez _begging_ me to go out with her?" she teases.

Santana grows slightly serious and shakes her head. "Oh, I never beg. I'm simply requesting that you accompany me this fine winter's eve on an outing of a nonspecific nature." She reaches out to take one of the diva's hands and bring it to her lips. "Please?"

Rachel rolls her eyes and sighs playfully, "Well I _suppose_ so... only because you asked so nicely." The diva soon grows curious again. "What about dinner?"

Santana waves a dismissive hand, "I've got it covered, just get ready. I've got an errand to run but I'll be back in a bit." With that said she gets up from the bed and starts to leave the room, turning around in the doorway to face the diva again. "Warm. Clothes." she says firmly, pointing a finger at the diva.

Rachel raises a curious eyebrow once more but nods with a wide smile.

* * *

It's only about twenty minutes later when Santana appears in Rachel's doorway again. "So, you ready?"

The diva, now dressed in much more weather appropriate attire, pops up from her bed and walks over to the Latina with a wide smile. She rises to her toes and pecks the girl's lips softly.

"So..." Santana starts with a raised brow. "Yes?"

Rachel chuckles and rolls her eyes, lightly slapping Santana's stomach before continuing out of the room.

Once downstairs, the girls quickly pull on their boots and jackets before heading out into the cool wintery air. Rachel automatically starts towards her own car and raises a confused eyebrow when Santana walks right past, continuing on towards her fathers' vehicle.

"Where are you going?" she asks simply.

Santana slightly smirks. "Oh, we're taking a different ride. And _I'm_ driving," she says pointedly as she clicks the vehicle open.

Rachel's confused expression doesn't change, but she does walk over and hop up into the passenger side seat of the dark SUV. Once she has her seatbelt on, she can't fight the urge to ask anymore. "Why are we taking daddy's car?"

The Latina looks over with a playful smile. "It's a surprise," she answers simply as she fires up the ignition and starts to back out of the driveway.

"Ok..." the diva draws out. "So, where are we going?"

Santana just chuckles as she shifts into drive. "Do you even know the definition of 'surprise'?"

Rachel just scoffs before leaning back into her seat with her arms crossed across her chest.

After about five minutes of silence they slow to a stop at a red light and Santana glances over at the silent diva, who has not budged an inch. "Wow, you really don't like surprises, do you?" she surmises with a slight chuckle.

Rachel sighs. "I'm used to being in control of situations. I make plans, I work out details, and I follow through. I'm not comfortable with this whole 'not knowing what's going on' thing."

Santana smiles and slightly shakes her head as she turns ahead to drive once more, the diva's statement making a lot of pieces fit together in her mind. "Well, _I_ tend towards impulsive, so let's see if we can change that."

The pair fall silent, the radio in the background keeping them company for the 20 minutes before they reach their destination. Santana pulls up to parallel park in front of a small shop.

"Where are we?" Rachel asks, glancing around at their surroundings as the Latina kills the ignition.

"The village," Santana answers simply as she starts to climb out of the car.

Rachel raises an eyebrow and follows suit. "The village..." she draws out. "As in, near the college?" she clarifies as the Latina approaches.

Santana just nods as she takes one of the diva's hands into her own. "And _that's_ where we're going," she points to a cozy, glass-fronted restaurant just a few stores down.

Rachel looks up at the marquee, which reads 'Green Iguana Cafe', before turning back to Santana with a raised eyebrow. "What is this place? I've never even heard of it."

The Latina smiles, "It's new. It's the only vegan restaurant in Lima."

Rachel's eyes go wide and her smile spreads to match as she practically tackles the cheerleader with a hug.

Santana slightly chuckles and lets it spread into a smile as the diva pulls back. "It's à la carte, so it's not super fancy or anything, but I figured it would literally be your cup of tea."

Rachel's smile doesn't fade and she shakes her head in a bit of amazement. "You're just a charmer, aren't you?"

The Latina shrugs. "Let's be real, the way to a woman's pants is through her stomach."

The diva's brow drops in confusion, "I don't think that's how the expression goes..."

Santana smirks once more. "Let's just say I've done extensive research on the matter."

Rachel's eyes go wide at her words, but instinctively drift shut when the Latina leans in to kiss her softly.

"So... we ready?" Santana offers gently, an eyebrow raised, reaching her hand out for the diva to take once more.

Rachel just smiles brightly and nods, meeting the Latina's hand with her own.

* * *

It's not too long before the pair are back in the truck and driving again.

"I'm so glad you found that place, we definitely have to go back," the diva turns towards Santana with a smile.

"Yeah..." the Latina trails off, keeping her eyes on the road but letting a small smile cross her lips. "Next time I think I'll try something different, though."

Rachel chuckles. "I can't believe you had seitan. _I _don't even eat seitan," she shakes her head.

Santana just shrugs. "I had to try something that's essentially called 'Satan'."

The diva glances over with a raised eyebrow. "And did it live up to expectations?"

"Oh, it was definitely a product of hell," she smirks, causing Rachel to chuckle.

A silence spreads over the pair for a few comfortable minutes before a showtune breaks the moment. Rachel struggles to reach into her pocket and retrieve her phone, finally taking a look at the call ID when she does.

She sighs heavily, "It's dad."

Santana just nods, but the ringing continues causing her to glance over with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you gonna answer it?"

Rachel plays with the phone between her hands for a few moments before making a decision. "No," she says simply before dropping the phone into a cup holder. "He knows we're on a date, if it's important he'll leave a message."

Santana smirks and raises an eyebrow, "So... this is a 'date' now?"

The diva rolls her eyes. "Well, I suppose _technically_ it is. I mean there was food, mystery, and now we're going somewhere else... where are we going?" she tries on the off chance that Santana has dropped her guard.

"Still a surprise," she deadpans, a slight laugh escaping her lips when the diva groans.

* * *

It's only half an hour later when Santana shifts the SUV into park again, this time in the middle of a dimly-lit parking lot.

Rachel looks over at her with an eyebrow raised. "The park? What are we doing here?"

Santana smirks but just shrugs at the girl before turning off the ignition and climbing out of the car. Rachel groans, finding herself quickly growing frustrated with not knowing what's going on again.

She steps out of the vehicle and into the cool air, raising an eyebrow once more as she sees the Latina pop open the trunk. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing much..." Santana trails off as she reaches into the vehicle to wrestle out the item she's looking for. She closes the trunk door before reappearing with a large, old school wooden toboggan in her hands and a wide smile.

Rachel's face washes over in slight confusion and slight fear as she stares at the contraption in the Latina's hands. "Um, what is _that_?" she asks, pointing a wary finger at the plank of wood in question.

"It's a sled." Santana answers simply, but the diva's expression doesn't shift. "Otherwise known as a toboggan? You know, one of those things you slide down a hill on?" she gestures her arm to the sizeable hill behind the diva.

Rachel chances a glance over at the hill in question before turning back to the Latina with her arms crossed. "No way," she says firmly with a shake of her head.

Santana's face scrunches, "Is it even possible for someone to _not_ like tobogganing?"

The diva looks down in slight embarrassment. "I get scared," she says softly.

Santana slightly chuckles, _Of course you do_, before walking over to the diva. She leans the sled against the side of the vehicle before reaching out to take the ends of the girl's scarf into her hands, lightly tugging on them, drawing the diva's eyes up to hers. "I'll keep you safe," she says softly with a smile.

Rachel smiles and looks down once more, a pronounced blush across her cheeks this time.

Santana smiles wide and runs her hands up the length of the scarf, readjusting it around the girl's neck before speaking again. "Do you have any idea how cute you look all bundled up like this?"

The diva's blush deepens impossibly further.

The Latina smirks and leans in close to her ear. "And I'm gonna love peeling all of these layers off of you later..." she pulls back with a playful smile.

Rachel's eyes go wide. "Oh, and you think I'm that easy?"

Santana smirks once more. "Oh, you don't have to be easy to make _me_ hard," she winks, earning a slap on the shoulder from the diva.

Santana just steps back with a wide smile, locking and setting the alarm on the SUV before picking up the sled in one arm and starting to walk. She turns around after a few steps, though, realizing that the diva is not following.

"Come _on_," she vocalizes in a near whine. "There's hot chocolate in it for you afterwards if you participate," she smiles, trying to sweeten the deal.

Rachel's face morphs into a slight smirk, "With marshmallows?"

Santana rolls her eyes, "Fine, yes. With marshmallows," she cedes.

"Ok then," the diva nods with a smile.

"Ok then. Shall we?" Santana asks with a matching smile, reaching her hand out for the diva to take. Rachel just nods once more and gives the Latina her hand.

They get about halfway to the lit side of the hill before Rachel stops walking abruptly. Santana jolts to a stop, her hand anchored by the deadweight behind her, and turns around with a questioning expression.

"I forgot my phone in the car," the diva laments, staring back at the vehicle longingly.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Just leave it there, you won't need it anyway."

Rachel turns back towards the Latina and arches an eyebrow before glancing around at their dark and basically deserted surroundings. "You didn't bring me here to kill me, did you?" she asks, only half-jokingly.

"Yes. I'm going to bludgeon you with this sled," Santana deadpans, nodding her head towards the wooden contraption under her arm. Rachel's face washes over with a mixture of fear and uncertainty before Santana chuckles and shakes her head. "No, I'm obviously not gonna kill you. I already told Kevin it'd be _far_ too difficult..." she trails off with a smirk.

Rachel's brow furrows and she considers asking what the hell the Latina is talking about, but she's forced into action when Santana tugs her hand impatiently.

"Let's go, Cinderella, I'm sure your phone won't turn into a pumpkin while we're gone."

Rachel just rolls her eyes and follows the Latina.

When they get around to the lit side of the hill, Rachel is surprised to see that they're not the only people there. There are hordes of parents and children sliding down the snowy incline. The scene is made only more impressive by the fact that it has started to snow―soft, large flakes that are floating down to the ground like small feathers.

"Wow..." she remarks.

Santana smirks. "See? Even a child can do this," she teases, turning to face the diva.

Rachel just shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. "Ok... so what now?" she asks lamely.

Santana rolls her eyes and gestures her head, "Up the hill."

Rachel's brow drops and she starts to look around. "Isn't there, like, a ski lift or something?"

The Latina scoffs, "Maybe if we were skiing..." She turns and tugs on the diva's hand once more, starting a slow climb up the hill with the girl behind her reluctantly following along.

Once they reach the top, Santana glances over to see the diva looking down the hill in complete and utter fear. "Hey," she coos, stepping in close, releasing the diva's hand to stroke the side of her face. "I'll keep you safe," she echoes. "I promise," she adds with a reassuring smile.

Rachel's reservations completely melt away at the Latina's words and she even cracks a smile. "Ok," she says bashfully, looking down at the snow covered ground.

Santana leans in to peck the diva on the cheek before placing the sled down on the snow, using her foot to anchor it in place. "Ok, sit down," she gestures.

Rachel looks up with a raised eyebrow before looking back down at the sled discriminatingly. "Shouldn't there be a seatbelt or some similar kind of safety feature?"

Santana smiles smugly. "Well... my arms will be around you, what more do you need?"

The diva turns back to the Latina with a soft smile, "Maybe sledding isn't going to be so bad after all." She advances towards the sled and hesitantly seats herself, sliding as far towards the front of it as she can.

Once Rachel is settled, Santana removes her foot and moves to slide in behind her, wrapping her legs around the diva's body and reaching her arms around her to grab the rope.

Rachel is wearing a deep blush at their closeness and even closes her eyes for a moment as she lets her body relax against Santana's. It's temporary, though, as the Latina's voice soon breaks the moment.

"So, you ready?"

Rachel opens her eyes again and looks down the hill, still feeling slightly scared. "Ok...?" she says unsurely.

"Ok, here we go!" Santana says excitedly before shifting her momentum forward and starting to inch the sleigh towards the edge of the hill, only stopping when the sled starts a slow glide on its own.

"Ohmigodohmigodohmigod," Rachel repeats as the sled starts to pick up speed; and when it really starts going, she flat out screams.

Santana, though slightly wincing at the pitch of the scream, starts laughing uncontrollably as they continue their slide.

When the sleigh hits the flat and starts gradually slowing, Rachel starts laughing excitedly and clapping her hands. "Oh my god, that was so much fun!" she exclaims in pure joy.

Santana smirks from her position behind the girl, letting her legs drop onto the snow to halt their motion. She cranes her neck forward to kiss the soft skin just below the diva's ear. "And now you can cross that off of your 5-year-old self's bucket list," she smirks before moving to stand, offering a chuckling Rachel her hand once she's on her feet.

The diva pulls herself up, the look of joy still across her face. "Again?" she asks excitedly, and Santana just nods with a wide smile.

* * *

An hour later, Santana finds herself slowly trudging up the hill, dragging Rachel along on the sled behind her. She finally says something when her feet slightly slip beneath her for the hundredth time.

"You know, this isn't exactly the way I pictured this going..." she breathes out, currently a little short of breath.

Rachel is smirking on the sled behind her. "Well, next time you'll just have to remember that I'm not an athlete and choose a less physically demanding activity."

Santana stops climbing and turns around with a raised eyebrow. "So, using the elliptical every morning hasn't made you fit enough to climb a measly little hill?"

The diva opens her mouth to speak a few times but doesn't actually say anything.

Santana just smirks before letting the rope run through her hand a bit, causing the sled to slightly jerk down the hill.

Rachel's face washes over in fear. "Santana!" she chides as she grabs frantically at the front of the sled.

"You know," the Latina starts playfully. "If I let go, you'd have to walk all the way up here by yourself―_with_ the sled," she smirks before turning around and starting to climb again.

Rachel raises an eyebrow. "Or, alternatively, I could just walk to the nice, warm car..."

Santana stops walking and turns around once more with a pensive look. "Yeah, I suppose you _could_ do that... though I'm not too sure how well that 'warm' part would work out for you considering _I_ have the keys." She jingles the keys in her jacket pocket before sticking her tongue out at the diva.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Well, what about if I just call my dads to come get me?"

"Oh, you mean with your phone that's in the car?" the Latina smirks.

The diva's face drops.

Santana shrugs, "Guess you're just stuck with me, huh?"

Rachel groans in frustration. "Ugh, sometimes you're just so... so..." she trails off, searching for the right word.

The Latina smirks. "Amazing? Hot? Sexy?"

The diva shakes her head, looking down in thought. "Just such a―"

"A genius? A goddess? Ooh! A jackass?" she chances with a raised brow.

Rachel looks up with an eyebrow raised, "Well, yes."

Santana just smiles and shrugs before turning and starting up the hill once more. "Your fault for dating a jackass," she shoots over her shoulder, smiling once more as she hears the diva groan behind her.

* * *

It's only about half an hour later when sledding grows tedious and the cold wind starts to cut a little too sharp through the pair's wet clothes. When they reach the car, Santana makes for the trunk, but Rachel cuts her off, taking the sled from her hands and heading back herself.

Santana goes agape, "Oh. My. God. Is Rachel Berry doing manual labour?.?" she remarks teasingly.

Rachel chuckles as she opens the trunk. "Well, it's the duty of a good Samaritan to put in a little community service on occasion."

Santana smirks and raises an eyebrow as she takes to leaning against the side of the car. "Servicing a whole community, huh? And you were worried about _me_ having a communicable disease?"

Rachel leans around the back of the vehicle, taking a break from her obvious struggle to get the sled into the car to absolutely glare at the girl. Santana chuckles, almost sure that, if she were within arm's length, the girl would have hit her.

As the diva starts back towards her, Santana walks to the front of the vehicle. "Hey Rach, wanna see something neat?" she smiles, though she's slightly internally cringing at the fact she just said the word 'neat'.

Rachel's expression immediately shifts back into a smile. "Sure!" she replies enthusiastically as she practically skips towards the front of the vehicle to meet the Latina.

"So, what you're going to have to do is pick up a pile of snow like this." Santana reaches her hands out to the hood of the SUV and brings them together so that a lofty pile of snow is resting atop her open palms. "See?" she turns back towards the diva with a smile before shaking the pile off.

"Ok!" Rachel smiles excitedly, doing as the Latina instructed.

Once Rachel has a sizeable pile in her hands, she turns towards the Latina with cheerful eyes and an expectant smile. Santana just smirks before slapping the girl's hands upwards, sending the pile of snow flying in a spray directly at the diva's face.

Rachel's face washes over in complete shock, and Santana just starts to laugh.

The diva wipes off her face as best she can with the at least semi-dry backs of her mittens before looking at Santana with an eyebrow raised. "And you think this is going to somehow help your plan to strip me?"

The Latina just raises an eyebrow in return. "Oh, so now I need a _plan_?"

Rachel just smirks before quickly swiping her arm across the hood of the car, sending a spray of snow at the Latina.

Santana goes agape for a few moments in total surprise, the semi-frozen water a complete shock to her bare skin. When she regains her thoughts, she simply shrugs off the snow and looks at the diva with a playful smile. "Oh, it's on now," she warns as she uses her own arm to send a spray of snow at the diva before retreating to the driver's side of the car. Rachel runs to the opposite side of the vehicle and the pair start having an old-fashioned snowball fight over the hood of the car, laughing uncontrollably.

After a few minutes of back and forth, Rachel can't resist the opportunity to tease the Latina. "You know, it's starting to make sense to me that you're a cheerio and not some other sort of athlete," she notes as she watches a snowball flies past―a good three feet to the right of her body and about a foot too high.

Santana pauses for a moment, standing upright and looking at the girl with a questioning eyebrow.

"For being so butch, you really do throw like a girl," she smirks before pulling her arm out from behind her back and throwing a snowball at the Latina, landing a square shot on the girl's shoulder.

Santana, already agape from the diva's words, just looks down at her shoulder for a minute before glancing back over at the girl with a devilish grin. "Oh, you're dead," she growls playfully before starting to chase a giggling Rachel around the car.

It's not long before Santana catches up, her longer legs giving her a distinct advantage, and wraps her arms around the diva's waist, spinning her around before tackling her into a soft snowbank with a light thud. Santana pulls slightly up, finding herself in the familiar position of straddling the shorter girl.

"Hi," she coos softly, removing one of her gloves to run her warm hand along Rachel's cool cheek. The girl's skin immediately heats at the contact.

"Hi," the diva responds with a bashful smile, her arms hanging limply at her sides.

Santana smiles wide before leaning down to kiss the girl softly. When she pulls back the diva has an eyebrow arched. "What is it?"

"You just, you look hungry. You should probably eat something."

Santana's face screws in complete and utter confusion. "What?"

Rachel smirks before raising a hand full of snow and rubbing it into the Latina's face. "Humble pie," she says through her laughter.

Santana's face washes over in a mixture of amazement and a smirk as she raises her bare hand to wipe the snow from her eyes. "Oh yeah?" she inquires playfully before pinning Rachel's hands against the snow and leaning down to wipe the snow off of her own face and onto the diva's.

"Santana!" the girl squeals beneath her through giggles as she struggles to escape the Latina's hold.

Once the cheerleader is sure she's gotten adequate payback she pulls back with a smile, and when the diva looks back up at her she simply purses her lips in a kiss mockingly.

"Jackass," Rachel mutters, causing Santana to chuckle once more.

A cool breeze suddenly passes over the pair and Santana feels Rachel shiver pronouncedly beneath her. "You're freezing," she observes softly before moving to stand and offering the diva her hand. "Come on, Cinderella," she teases as she pulls the girl up. "Let's go get some of that hot chocolate."

* * *

On the way back to the Berry house, Santana stops at a gas station that has a full grocery store built in, pulling up to one of the pumps before turning off the ignition. Rachel turns towards her with a curious eyebrow.

"It's enough that Kevin let me borrow the car, I'm not gonna take it back with less than a quarter tank," she explains with a shrug. The diva nods her understanding.

Rachel watches patiently as the Latina pumps gas, then as she heads into the station to pay. It's an unusually long amount of time before the girl emerges again, carrying a plastic shopping bag in one of her hands that makes the diva arch an eyebrow.

Santana climbs back into the car and tosses the bag onto the diva's lap. Rachel looks down into the bag to see a tin of cocoa powder, a tin of cinnamon, a container of soy milk, and a bag of marshmallows. She looks up at the Latina with a questioning expression.

Santana grins at the diva as she does up her seatbelt. "Hot chocolate and marshmallows, as promised. Oh, and don't worry, I read the label on the cocoa powder―there's no milk stuff in there."

Rachel smiles kindly before lifting up the bag of puffy white confections. "While I more than appreciate the thought, _these_―" she gestures her head towards the bag. "―are made with gelatin."

The Latina just raises an eyebrow and starts the ignition.

"_Animal_ gelatin," the diva elaborates.

Santana furrows her brow in confusion. "So wait, why did you say you wanted marshmallows, then?"

"Oh, I do want marshmallows... I would just need vegan ones."

Santana groans as she starts to pull away from the pump. "Ok, so where do we go to get those?"

"Well," the diva starts with a bit of a smirk. "The closest specialty store that I know of is in Bowling Green."

Santana abruptly hits the brakes, bringing the car to a stop once more. She looks over at the diva with wide eyes, completely agape. "Rachel, I am _not_ driving over an hour away just to get some fucking marshmallows."

Rachel just smirks heavily and shrugs. "Yeah, I didn't think you would..." she trails off playfully, obviously having brought up the marshmallows just to be a pain in the ass.

Santana groans and rolls her eyes. "Here I am trying to be all thoughtful, and really, _you're _the jackass."

The diva's smirk spreads into a full-on smile. "Well, I guess we really _do_ match, then."

The Latina just chuckles and shakes her head as she starts to drive again.

It's only about five minutes before they reach the Berry household, dropping the shopping bag off in the kitchen before heading upstairs to change out of their completely wet clothes. Rachel starts to head into her room and Santana follows closely behind. The diva is already well into her room before she realizes that the girl is following, causing her to turn abruptly.

"What are you doing?" she asks simply.

Santana steps forward slightly so that she can close the door behind her. "Well... I figure with how awesome tonight's outing obviously was that I've more than earned stripping rights," she looks up with a smirk as she starts to approach the diva.

Rachel just raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. "Ok then, strip," she orders.

The Latina stops in her tracks and raises a matching eyebrow.

"You said you've earned the right to strip, so go ahead and strip."

Santana rolls her eyes before starting to slowly inch towards the diva once more, pulling off her soaked through hoodie as she does. She tosses it aside before looking at the diva pointedly with a playful expression, "Your turn."

"Oh, I never said I'd be participating," the diva responds with equal playfulness, though she slightly trembles when the Latina moves flush against her body.

Santana smiles and leans in to her ear, "That's ok. _I_ wanted to strip you anyway." When she leans back, Rachel's eyes have slightly darkened, and she takes it as a sign, reaching her hand out to slowly unzip the diva's hoodie. Once the zipper is undone, she ghosts her hands up Rachel's front, sliding under the fabric of the sweater at the shoulders to slip it off. It drops to the ground softly, creating a fabric crescent behind the diva's feet.

Santana steps back slightly and stares at the brunette's eyes as she slides her hands down her own body to undo the button and the fly on her outer pair of jeans, Rachel's eyes following the journey. She leaves the pants hanging open before reaching across to the waistband of Rachel's jeans, lightly tugging on them to gain the diva's eye contact again. "Ok?" Santana asks lightly with slightly bated breath, wanting to make sure she's not going anywhere she's not welcome.

The diva bites her lip and looks up with those innocent cartoon eyes again, and Santana's sure she's done for. When Rachel slowly nods, the Latina's breath hitches as she realizes that they've never actually gone this far, they've never gone below the belt. Santana's hands suddenly go almost completely lame as she awkwardly fumbles with the diva's jeans, wholly starting to think that whoever invented the button fly should be dragged out into the street and shot.

Rachel reaches her hands down and slips them beneath Santana's obviously struggling duo, looking deeply into the Latina's eyes as she does. She undoes the button and fly before struggling to work the wet denim down to her ankles. When she stands back upright, kicking the jeans towards the side of the room, the cheerleader is looking at her with an expression that makes her heart race.

Santana is slightly agape as she looks into the shorter girl's eyes, knowing how big of a step this is. Her heart is pounding harder than she'd like to admit, despite the fact they are both still fully clothed. She leans down to follow suit, lowering her jeans before kicking them aside, leaving herself wearing a single denim barrier. When she stands back upright, she reaches hesitant hands out to the hem of Rachel's thermal top, once again looking for permission before she continues. The diva nods wordlessly and raises her arms to assist in the task. When Santana tosses the waffle-patterned fabric to the side, the diva is left dressed in a pink cami and jeans. The Latina quickly removes another of her own top layers, leaving herself in a white wife beater.

Santana steps in close, letting her hands drift slightly beneath the sides of the cami, letting her fingertips graze the smooth skin of the girl's hips. Rachel slightly shivers before reaching out to wrap her arms around the cheerleader's neck, letting one hand drift up to tangle in the Latina's hair before pulling her down into a kiss. Santana is pleasantly surprised when she feels the diva's tongue run along her lower lip, and she lets the girl in as she starts taking slow steps forward towards the bed.

When the backs of the diva's knees hit the bed, she sits down and Santana follows completely, moving down along with her and on top of her, using her arms to brace her weight on the mattress. The two move in tandem up towards the head of the bed, barely breaking lip contact along their journey. Once they reach a stationary position, Santana leans her weight onto her left arm, freeing her right hand to touch the diva again.

She slides her hand slightly up Rachel's top once more as one of Rachel's own hands starts to move. One stays buried in the Latina's hair and the other starts to drift down her throat, drawing lazy patterns along her collarbone. The diva lifts one of her legs slightly, making unintentional contact with Santana's core. The Latina moans as she feels her need building. She starts sliding her hand down and towards the waistband of the diva's jeans. She undoes the button and fly, deftly this time around, before sliding back up her shirt, circling around the girl's navel before starting another journey downwards. As soon as her hand reaches the threshold of Rachel's underwear, though, the diva's hand stops her.

She pulls back with a groan, dropping her forehead to rest on the diva's.

"It's not the time." Rachel says simply.

Santana rolls her eyes in frustration and sighs heavily as she pulls back completely. "Then when _is_ the time?"

The diva shakes her head with a shy smile. "You're not understanding me, it's _really_ not. the. time."

Santana's brow furrows for a moment before her eyes widen in realization. "OH! Ok, sorry..." she says with a sheepish smile before rolling onto her back on the mattress, resting one hand under her head and the other on her stomach.

Rachel rolls to her side, following the Latina, and props her head up on her hand, using her free hand to brush some stray hair out of the cheerleader's face. She continues the comforting motion for a few minutes, her eyes just scanning over the girl's face, before she speaks. "You're so beautiful," she nearly whispers.

Santana chuckles and rolls her eyes, "Ok, cheeseball."

Rachel's eyes lock on to the Latina's and she shakes her head with a slight smile. "I'm serious. I know people call you 'hot' and 'sexy' and all those other names that have purely _sexual_ connotations, but, when it comes right down to it, do you even know how completely and utterly _beautiful_ you are?"

Santana feels completely surprised and flustered at the diva's words, finding herself simply unable to form any words of her own. She just smiles shyly and shakes her head slightly, a heavy blush across her features.

The diva just smiles further and speaks softly. "Well now you do, and knowing is half the battle," she says matter-of-factly with a wink as she taps the Latina's nose with her index finger.

Santana chuckles, "Oh, you're just a panty dropper, aren't you?" she asks teasingly.

Rachel shrugs, "Not a difficult thing to be when you're dating a walking hard-on."

Santana just laughs slightly before tugging at Rachel's arm, trying to get the girl to lie down. She does, and she settles her head onto the crook of the Latina's shoulder. Santana sighs into the embrace.

"So..." she starts tiredly. "How long do you think it'll be before bed checks?"

Rachel smiles, "Well, it _is_ still pretty early..." she trails off, placing a soft kiss on the cheerleader's shoulder before settling back down.

They settle into the embrace but, within minutes, as if on cue, the pair hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Rachel rolls off of the Latina's shoulder and quickly rushes to redo the button and fly of her jeans, doing so just in time for the knock at the door.

"I AM ENTERING THE ROOM." Kevin's deep voice comes through the door as an exaggerated monotone.

Santana chuckles as she sits up to lean against the headboard, Rachel following suit.

The man enters the room with a cautionary hand raised over his eyes. "Is everyone fully clothed?" he asks playfully in the same monotone.

"Yes, daddy," Rachel replies through an embarrassed groan with a roll of her eyes.

Kevin lifts his hand slightly to make sure she's telling the truth before dropping it completely with a smile. "So, what did you ladies get up to tonight?" he asks with genuine interest as he leans against the doorjamb.

"We went tobogganing!" the diva reports excitedly, and Santana smiles in satisfaction.

The man smirks in slight amazement before looking over to the Latina. "Well, you were certainly right about it being something she wouldn't have chosen herself," he chuckles. "She _hated_ sledding when she was a kid."

"Daddy!" the girl chides with embarrassment, causing Santana to smile further.

Kevin just smiles in amusement. "What about dinner, what did you guys eat?"

Rachel shifts to sit Indian-style, leaning forward with obvious enthusiasm. "Santana found this little vegan restaurant hidden away in the village! I didn't even know it existed," she smiles wide before chancing a look of thanks at the Latina.

The man raises an impressed eyebrow and nods as he turns his attention towards the Latina. "Well, aren't you Princess Charming..." he remarks with a bit of a smirk.

Santana rolls her eyes, but shrugs with a smug smile. "I do what I can."

"Ok, well I'm going to ignore the glaringly obvious piles of discarded clothing on the floor and just cut to the chase," The man smirks before abruptly dropping his expression. "David wants to have a house meeting," he shoots an apologetic glance at the girls. "He wouldn't tell me what about."

Santana breathes out a heavy sigh and Rachel nods robotically.

"Ok," the diva verbalizes. "We'll be down in a couple minutes."

The man just nods before heading out, closing the door behind him.

The girls glance at each other, obvious concern on both of their faces. _This is it_, Santana thinks. _I'm getting kicked out_. They cautiously make their way downstairs and into the living room, as if the room itself were somehow booby-trapped. Kevin is seated in an armchair and David is standing at the front of the room.

"Glad you could join us," the standing man says simply, his expression unreadable. He gestures an arm to the couch, "Please, have a seat."

The girls reluctantly settle onto the couch wearing matching raised eyebrows, swimming in confusion.

Santana chances a glance over at Kevin, who just shrugs and mouths, 'I have no idea.'

David clears his throat before speaking pointedly at his daughter. "So, Rachel, I tried to call your phone while you two were out and something very curious happened..." he trails off, walking over to the phone in the corner of the room.

Santana's eyes widen and she looks away with a bit of a smirk, knowing full well what's coming. Rachel just looks completely confused, and Kevin has an expectant eyebrow raised.

David flips on the speakerphone before dialing the diva's number. The line rings out four times before the voicemail kicks in and Santana raises a hand to her mouth, doing her best to stifle her laughter as her own voice starts to play over the line:

'Hi,' she greets smugly. 'You've reached Rachel Berry's pants. She's not in them right now, so please leave a message and she'll get back to you soon.'

Kevin stifles his laughter as the message is playing, but fully laughs once the message concludes. Santana can no longer fight her laughter either. David looks at the both of them with pointed glares, and Rachel looks completely mortified.

"Santana!" she exclaims, standing abruptly with her hands on her hips and staring down dramatically at the Latina. "How long has it been like that?.!"

Santana can't stop laughing despite the fact it's causing her to cough from her residual sickness. "Oh man... this is _so _much better than I thought it would be..."

Kevin speaks through his own laughter. "I think I like having this one around..." he remarks, pointing loosely at the Latina.

Santana wipes at a tear leaking out from her eye before chancing another glance up at David, who is actually wearing a bit of a humoured smile, much to her surprise. The Latina stops laughing abruptly but smiles wide. _He's human_. It's at this moment she realizes that she's starting to tip the scale, she's starting to earn this man's trust... or, well, at least his laughter. _Fucking A._

* * *

**Yeah, for anyone who doesn't know the iPhone, if you don't configure a password (or have a lock password) then all your VM features are accessible directly through the phone―including the greeting. ~The more you know~ (*shooting rainbow star*)**

**Also, the song Rachel & Santana sing in the car is 'Only Girl (In The World)' by Rihanna.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hey guise. So this one's relatively short... I don't have what would've been the entire chapter done yet, but I didn't want to leave y'all hanging, so essentially the second part of this chapter will be along later this week.**

**For the next little while (this week notwithstanding) we're probably looking at one update per week.**

**Oh, and in re: one of the comments, I've totally pulled the voicemail switch :) and it's funny every time.**

* * *

Santana wakes Saturday morning with a satisfied stretch and yawn. She sits up and reaches out to retrieve her phone, the time reading close to 10am. She puts the phone back down before reaching her arms up into another stretch, catching an irresistible scent as she does. She brings her arms back down and angles her nose up to sniff a little better, her eyes going wide. "Bacon?" she muses aloud before unconsciously licking her lips, her stomach pronouncedly indicating its want as she does.

She quickly pulls on a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt before heading out of the room to investigate the smell, her hunger only growing when she opens the door and the scent intensifies. _Oh my fucking god_, she almost trembles with the excitement running through her, and she takes the stairs a little faster than she normally would being only moments into waking life.

When she walks into the kitchen she sees Kevin standing over the stove tending to two pans of the frying fatty goodness and Rachel looking over his shoulder with a look of pronounced disgust across her face. Santana chuckles at the scene, and the noise announces her presence.

The man turns around with a wide smile, "So, is bacon acceptable?"

Santana licks her lips again before looking at the man like he's absolutely insane. "Um, bacon is _always_ acceptable," she deadpans.

Kevin lightly chuckles and Rachel scrunches her face at the Latina as she approaches. "That is just disgusting."

When the diva arrives, she lifts to her toes to kiss the Latina, but Santana turns her cheek. "Haven't brushed my teeth yet," she explains, drawing a roll of the eyes from the shorter girl who just grabs her by the chin and pulls her down into a kiss anyway. Santana raises an eyebrow as the girl settles back down.

Rachel shrugs, "Doesn't bother me."

Santana's face splits into a wide smile that's accompanied by a slight blush.

"Ok," Kevin smiles as he turns off the stove. "Breakfast!" he yells, and it's not long before David ambles into the room as well.

The three non-chefs settle around the kitchen table, which is fully set up with plates and cutlery and napkins that match the tablecloth. There's a bowl of freshly washed and chopped fruits, a jug of orange juice, and a jug of sparkling water with various berries floating in it. Kevin walks over with a bowl of bacon, which he sets down between Santana's plate and his own, a small plate of turkey bacon for David, as well as a plate of vegan pancakes that had been keeping warm in the oven.

Santana is literally salivating as she stares at the feast on the table, her usual breakfast consisting of little more than an apple or a granola bar... or sometimes even just a glass of water.

As soon as Kevin sits down, the food on the table becomes fair game and everyone starts taking their own portions and munching away.

About halfway through the meal, Santana finds herself starting to grow more than slightly frustrated with Rachel's continued unsuccessful campaigning to turn her into a vegetarian―a common theme to every meat-centric meal she has enjoyed so far in the Berry household.

"Santana..." the diva draws out, something she's been doing a lot this morning. "How can you possibly eat meat when you know how genetically altered it is, and hormone injected... and, beyond that, just the fact that they are animals―_living things―_that are being slaughtered just for your enjoyment?"

The Latina groans and rolls her eyes, placing her fork and knife down on her plate before looking at the girl next to her pointedly. "Rachel, humans have eaten meat _forever_. Pre-Neanderthal hominids had stronger jaw muscles so that they could eat _raw_ meat. Our bodies are literally _made_ to process and digest meat!" she counters.

Kevin bangs his fist against the table. "Hear, hear!" he smiles. Rachel shoots him an absolute death glare, though, and his smile fades as he slumps into his chair, dropping his eyes to his plate, thinking it may be a better idea to stay out of this particular argument.

David just looks down at his own plate with an amused smirk and a slight shake of his head.

Rachel scoffs as she turns her attention back towards the Latina. "Innocent living things are being _murdered_ so that you can enjoy a hamburger and you're ok with that?" she voices in disbelief.

Santana just shrugs with a mildly apologetic smile. "I'd eat a hamburger made of human babies if it tasted good enough."

The diva's face washes over in complete disgust and she moves to stand, but Santana reaches out to grab her wrist, giving it a firm tug, causing the girl to reluctantly settle back into her seat.

"Rach, I'm just kidding," she assures the girl softly. _No, I'm really not,_ she smirks internally.

The diva sighs. "How does it not bother you that we are literally farming and killing off millions of animals just to eat them?"

"You mean the same way we're farming and killing off millions of plants purely to eat _them_?" the Latina questions with a raised eyebrow.

Rachel's brow completely drops. "Santana, don't be ridiculous, plants are _not_ sentient beings."

Santana rolls her eyes. "_This_ is getting ridiculous."

The diva doesn't seem to take the hint, though. "I really don't see why you can't just _try_ it... I mean, you like animals, right? You like fuzzy little kittens and furry little puppies... you wouldn't eat _them_, would you?"

The Latina finally sighs in frustration, growing increasingly tired of the pseudo omnivore-exorcism currently taking place. "Ok, let's be clear. If I do what you want, if I _try_ being a vegetarian or whatever, it's not going to be because I love animals..." she pauses for effect. "It's going to be because I _hate_ plants."

Kevin stifles a laugh and even David cracks a smile as Rachel just glares at her.

Santana just pumps a silent fist slightly in the air, "Death to plants."

Across the table, Kevin silently lifts his fist, his eyes still on his plate and a pronounced smirk across his features. Santana just smiles and nods in his direction, "Solidarity."

A somewhat awkward lull in conversation develops as the foursome resumes eating, that is up until David clears his throat.

"So, Santana," he directs towards the girl, causing her to look up in complete surprise―relatively sure this is the first time he's addressed her by name and in a conversational manner. "Not to ruin a perfectly awkward meal, but I've noticed that your health has improved significantly over the course of the week. Any thoughts on when you might be headed back home?" he inquires with a raised eyebrow.

"Dad!"

"David!"

Rachel and Kevin chastise the balding man simultaneously, the diva looking at her dad with wide eyes while the larger man cuts him a bit of a glare. Santana just clears her throat, trying to let the pair know that she doesn't need a knight in shining armour at the moment.

"Actually," she starts softly, taking another mouthful of pancake and swallowing it before continuing. "It _is_ something I've been thinking about. I mean, next week is going to be academic hell for me..." she draws out slightly, looking over at the diva next to her apologetically. "So I was thinking that I might go back to my mom's today..."

Rachel turns her head to meet the Latina's eyes, looking at her like she had just announced Barbra Streisand's untimely death. Santana's heart breaks slightly at the diva's obvious sadness.

"It's ok, you know," Kevin ventures gently, earning Santana's attention. "You don't have to rush out of here. You're more than welcome to stay for as long as you'd like," he offers with a soft smile, earning a pronounced clearing of the throat from the bespectacled man beside him. He turns his head towards David with a pointed glare. "She is more than welcome to stay in _my_ home," he says resolutely, and David just rolls his eyes.

Santana shakes her head, "No, I think it's about time I go back. You guys have really gone above and beyond for me, and I'm already starting to feel like I'm taking advantage of your hospitality."

She can see the balding man across the table slightly nod in agreement with her words, and Kevin just sighs.

"Alright kiddo, if that's truly what you want to do," he offers with a soft smile.

Santana just nods in affirmation. "It's for the best." She turns hesitantly towards the diva, reaching underneath the table to give the girl's thigh a reassuring squeeze. Rachel looks up with her sad, cartoon eyes and the Latina slightly falters. 'We'll be ok,' she mouths with a kind smile, hoping to at least slightly comfort the diva―after all, it's not like she's leaving the state, she just won't be in the next room anymore.

Rachel offers a small smile, one that's obviously meant to appease Santana more so than relay any genuine emotion. Santana sighs and turns back to her plate.

It's not long before the meal is done and Santana offers to clear off the plates and do the dishes, earning a surprised expression from both of the older men and an offer of help from the diva. Kevin and David vacate the kitchen and the girls set to task.

Santana starts washing the dishes in the sink with Rachel to her right taking drying duties. The Latina steals occasional glances over at the girl, who has been uncharacteristically quiet since the mid-breakfast awkwardness. By the time they get about halfway through cleaning, Santana can't stand the silence anymore.

"Rachel," she draws out. "You know I'm not really _leaving_, right? I mean, I'm just a ten minute drive away." She chances a glance over at the girl, who is being a little overly rigorous in her drying duties at the moment, seemingly trying to rub the towel right through the plate.

The diva sighs. "I know," she says softly―so softly that Santana can barely hear it above the running sink. Rachel abruptly stops drying and turns towards the Latina, reaching a hand out to turn off the tap so that she doesn't have to yell. "It's just, I mean, I _like_ having you here all the time. I like that when I'm bored I can just come over and hang out with you; and that when I'm feeling lonely I can just come over and you'll cuddle with me; and when I'm feeling like a failure, I can just come over and you'll make me feel special again."

Santana raises an eyebrow. "You know you can still do all of that, right? Or you can call me and I'll come over here..." she offers with a smile. "Things don't have to change that much just because I'm not living here."

Rachel sighs and resumes sandpapering the obviously dry plate in her hand. "Well, it's certainly going to be a lot more expensive in terms of gas money," she complains lamely.

The Latina scoffs playfully, "Are you saying I'm not worth the price of gas?"

Rachel stills her hands and looks up at the cheerleader with complete sincerity in her eyes. "You're worth everything," she breathes out softly.

Santana's heart melts at the girl's words and she places a hand down on the edge of the sink, half convinced that her knees might give out. She shakes her head slightly before leaning forward to kiss the diva―the best way she can think to show her affection―however, her face is caught by Rachel's open hand.

Santana's eyes go wide. "Ok...?" she draws out questioningly, her voice partly muffled by the diva's palm.

Rachel looks unimpressed, "There'll be none of _that_ until you brush your teeth."

Santana pulls her face back with a raised eyebrow. "You're ok with morning breath but not with bacon breath?"

The diva just shrugs and nods as if it should be entirely obvious.

Santana rolls her eyes with a scoff and reaches out to turn the sink back on. "Jackass," she nearly mumbles.

Rachel just chuckles, "You know it."

* * *

When the pair finish cleaning, Santana heads into her room to grab her shower stuff before heading off to the bathroom, surprised to find Rachel brushing her teeth in there when she arrives.

"Hey," she greets with a soft smile, placing her towels down on the toilet lid before sliding in to brush her teeth next to the diva.

The diva just nods with a smile in acknowledgement, her mouth full of toothpaste at the moment.

Santana starts brushing her teeth as well and, as the small room falls completely silent, the pair start to make funny faces at each other in the mirror. At one point, Santana starts essentially doing 'the worm' with her eyebrows and Rachel starts to outright laugh, almost choking on her toothpaste as she does.

Rachel takes her coughing fit as a cue that she's done, spitting out her spent toothpaste and rinsing before looking back up at the Latina thoughtfully. "See? This is what I'll miss."

Santana arches an eyebrow, leaning down to spit and rinse herself before turning towards the diva with a questioning expression. "Are you seriously telling me you're gonna stop brushing your teeth when I leave?" she deadpans.

The diva rolls her eyes. "I mean _this_," she points between their bodies with her toothbrush, "The in between times. The times where I don't even mean to run into you, but I do, and it makes my heart do back flips."

Santana smiles softly as she realizes that she's going to miss these things too―the random moments when they happen to run into each other in the hallway, their nightly toothbrush dance parties, the slight knocking game they've developed with their adjoining wall. As much as she wants her own space back, her freedom to do whatever the fuck she wants in her own house―including _fuck_―she's starting to wonder if it's worth it if the price is being away from Rachel.

As she starts to weigh her options, she starts to become entirely concerned with the fact that this is even an issue. _Fucking chill out, Lopez, you're not leaving the planet,_ she chides herself as she steels her expression.

Rachel sighs. "I'm just sad that this is going to be the last time we bump into each other like this..." she nearly mumbles.

Santana sighs, her own heart doing a bit of a mixed gymnastics routine at the diva's words over the past few moments. She raises her non toothbrush-wielding hand to Rachel's cheek, running it along the smooth skin before leaning in to kiss the shorter girl deeply. She pulls back with a raised eyebrow and speaks softly. "Who says it'll be the last time?" she inquires, her eyes never leaving the diva's.

Rachel smiles at the Latina's words and slightly blushes under the intensity of her stare, soon averting her gaze downwards. Santana just steps in close and wraps her arms around the smaller girl's shoulders, trying to let her know that she's not going anywhere in the larger sense. She's still there, and as far as she knows now, she will be for a long time.

"So..." Santana starts softly, taking a half-step back but leaving her hands on the girl's shoulders. "I'm about to hop in the shower, so you should probably vacate the premises..." she quirks an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to join, that is?" she winks.

Rachel blushes and looks down and Santana just pastes on a playful smile, raising a hand to run it along the diva's cheek and leaning down to kiss her chin before bringing her lips to the girl's ear. "Or, you could just watch, if you'd like," she offers gruffly before delivering a playful bite to the girl's earlobe and pulling back with a raised eyebrow.

The diva looks completely flush, and Santana just chuckles before leaning to kiss her softly. "You should probably go before I literally pull you in with me," she breathes out against the girl's lips.

When the Latina pulls away, Rachel is wearing a deep blush and an arched eyebrow. "So, I've determined that you have _two_ life goals: one, to give me a heart attack; and two, to make me feel completely embarrassed at every possibly opportunity."

Santana just shrugs and offers a playful smile. "It's totally worth it for my _sweet_, sweet ass, though, isn't it?" She turns around to present the aforementioned body part before pulling off her t-shirt to reveal her bare back, turning her head halfway back towards the diva. "So, come to any decision yet?"

Rachel's mouth drops and she actually takes a half-step forward before steeling herself and turning around. "I'll see you when you get out," she sends over her shoulder before closing the door behind her.

Santana just chuckles as she strips the rest of the way down and climbs into the shower.

* * *

Once she finishes up in the shower and redresses, Santana heads into her bedroom of late to start packing her things. She casts a nostalgic look around the room, realizing already that she's going to miss it. As far as rooms are concerned, it's glaringly simple: a bed, a couple nightstands, a desk, and a dresser. But, despite this, it manages to hold the same fundamental charm as the rest of the house. Beyond the warm-coloured walls and soft carpeting, it just feels lived in. It feels like home.

She doesn't have much time to reflect before she hears voices that are steadily rising in volume coming from Kevin and David's room. She doesn't want to listen in―knowing that _she's_ probably the topic of debate―but it's really unavoidable with how well the noise travels into her room. She abruptly gets up to grab her phone and her earbuds, throwing on some music and collapsing onto the bed as she waits for the storm to pass.

After about a song and a half, Rachel enters the room, though, closing the door softly behind her before advancing into the room to lean an ear against the wall.

Santana sits up and tugs out her headphones, looking over at the girl with a curious expression. "What are you doing?"

"Shh!" the diva chides. "My room doesn't border theirs," she explains quietly.

"Ok..." the Latina draws out. "So why are you leaning against the wall?"

"To hear what they're saying, obviously!" she whisper-yells.

Santana's brow drops. "Rachel, I can hear what they're saying from here... they're yelling."

"SHH!" the diva scolds with a bit more force this time, waving a frantic hand at the girl on the bed, still whispering as she speaks. "They'll hear you!"

"Not likely," the Latina mumbles, suddenly starting to feel like she's ten years old again, unintentionally eavesdropping on one of her own parents' verbal sparring matches. She collapses back onto the bed with a heavy sigh, and with the silence in the room, she can't help but overhear the argument taking place next door.

"―don't understand you. You're essentially pushing this practically-orphaned girl out the front door!" Kevin's voice booms.

"Kevin, this is wholly unacceptable. Do you really want this shiksa coming in and taking advantage of our daughter, _under our own roof_?"

Santana looks down in slight shame at David's words.

"Don't even get me started on that 'shiksa' bullshit, alright?" Kevin's voice comes with force. "Technically _I'm_ a fucking shiksa―some non-Jew who came in and stole you, a nice Jewish boy, from your community―so let's not go there."

"You watch your mouth, and that's not the point here."

Kevin sighs heavily but speaks firm. "I'm going to say this very simply and then I'm not going to say it again, understand?"

Santana is taken aback at how serious the man sounds. The man on the opposite side of the wall is not the light-hearted, joke-telling Kevin that she's used to, it's someone else entirely.

"Rachel likes Santana," he continues. "―which means _we_ like Santana unless she gives us reason not to. We clear?"

David's scoff is audible, even through the wall. "I'm starting to think your _eyes_ aren't clear, because obviously you're missing what's right in front of you. _Ten years_ of abuse―both physical and psychological―and you just wanna let this girl walk around our home and share our meals like she owns the place."

"I'll tell you one thing that's _perfectly_ clear, and that's that you are just a giant fucking phony."

Santana slightly cringes and considers throwing her headphones back in, but she can't bring herself to do so now that she's caught in the middle of the argument, dying to hear how it plays out.

It's Kevin who speaks again. "You _want_ our daughter to be the hand-holding, love-everyone-with-open-arms, wholly accepting young woman that, thankfully, she has grown into... but as soon as she exhibits that care and understanding to someone that you don't approve of―for your _own_ reasons, I might add―" Santana raises a curious eyebrow. "Then suddenly she's doing something wrong."

A silence passes over and it almost seems as if David doesn't have a response. A few moments later, sound comes again, but the voices are much softer this time around. Santana can't help but approach the wall and lean against it to listen in, just as Rachel is doing.

"I'm just trying to look out for our little girl," David says softly. "That girl is so charming that it scares me. People like that usually come with very heavy strings attached."

"David, honey, we have to trust that Rachel knows how to look out for herself. We can't keep her locked inside a bubble of rainbows and kittens her entire life, she's going to have to get out there and learn how to handle the world herself."

When David speaks again, it's so soft that Santana finds herself straining to hear.

"I know. I'm just scared."

Kevin sighs heavily. "I know, baby." After a few long moments, he chuckles slightly, "Sometimes it amazes me how alike you and Rachel are."

"I want to give her a fair shot," David says earnestly. "I really do."

"I know you do." Kevin breathes out another long sigh. "On the bright side, at least Rachel's found someone who won't let her stomp around like a complete and utter diva."

The smaller man chuckles.

"Santana seems to temper her, and we really can't complain about that. She calls her out on her shit, challenges her... quite honestly I think she could be good for her." There's a bit of a silence before Kevin speaks once again. "Not to mention, she's made things around here interesting as hell."

David slightly chuckles again, "Well I certainly can't argue that."

The adjacent room goes relatively silent, prompting Santana to pull away from the wall wearing a smile. Rachel pulls away shortly after wearing a matching expression―though it abruptly falls as she looks at the Latina's t-shirt.

"_What_ does that say?" she inquires with an unimpressed stare, pointing a finger at the article of clothing in question.

Santana just smirks before pulling the hem of the t-shirt out a bit so that the writing is more legible―the large block writing on top reading: 'MEAT IS MURDER'; and the slightly smaller italicized writing beneath it reading: 'Tasty, tasty murder.'

The diva's face completely drops when her assumption of what she _thought_ she had read is verified. "That is disgusting."

Santana rolls her eyes before heading back towards the bed. "You think _everything_ is disgusting."

Rachel turns to follow the Latina's movement, crossing her arms defensively in front of her body. "What?" she inquires in disbelief, leaning her weight to one side.

Santana raises a hand to her chin as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "Well, let's see what's made the list so far..." she trails off, holding out her hands to count off her points. "Off the top of my head: hamburgers, masturbation, germs, your fathers' '_non_' sex life, bacon, eating babies... all disgusting... and, now, my t-shirt."

The diva stands agape and Santana smirks in satisfaction, though she had to make a conscious effort not to include 'penis-shaped cars' in her list, remembering at the last second that _that_ was just a dream.

Rachel scoffs, "Well, I don't think it's at all reprehensible to stand steadfast in one's beliefs."

Santana rolls her eyes and lightly chuckles. "Ok, Mother Teresa," she teases before raising an eyebrow and gesturing her head over to her bag on the opposite side of the bed. "So, you gonna help me pack or just be a pain in my ass?"

"I'd prefer 'thorn in your side', but I can accept 'pain in the ass'."

Santana smirks heavily and raises her eyebrows in surprise. "You can 'accept pain in the ass', huh? I just, wow, I had no idea we were at the juncture where we're already making sexual requests..."

The colour runs out of Rachel's face and the Latina just smirks further as she stands and starts to approach the diva.

"But since we apparently are, I should let you know a few things..." she trails off, letting her hands drift slightly beneath the shorter girl's top as their bodies meet once more. She leans down into the diva's ear, letting her lips brush against her lobe. "I want to ride you so fucking hard; I want to make you scream and cry and ache, but in the best possible ways; and, most of all? I want to hear you scream my name so fucking loud that it breaks windows."

When Santana pulls her head back, she's almost certain the small girl in her arms may have had a stroke―her body completely frozen in place, her pupils completely dilated, the colour entirely gone from her face, her mouth slightly agape. The Latina takes her open mouth as an invitation and leans forward to inject a bit of herself into the diva.

The embrace seems to bring Rachel back to life, and she reaches her own small hands out frantically, running them up and underneath the Latina's shirt. Santana smiles against her lips and slides her own hands further up the diva's shirt, finally making contact with the girl's unrestrained breasts for the first time―breasts she has so adamantly, egregiously, and unapologetically admired for so long―moaning deeply as she does. _Holy fucking shit_. Santana is completely surprised by how immediately she can feel an entire Olympic-size swimming pool materialize between her legs.

She starts taking long strides, pushing Rachel back until her back meets a wall, their lips and tongues never breaking contact along the way. Santana slides a thigh between the diva's legs and lifts it ever so slightly, letting friction do its work. Rachel moans and slightly pushes Santana back by her shoulders, though the Latina doesn't really take 'no' for an answer as she keeps leaning in to peck her lips.

"This... is... not... _packing_..." the diva observes with a quivering voice during brief breaks in lip contact.

Santana relents and pulls slightly back with a crooked smile. "I'd rather show you what _I'm _packing," she smirks with a raise of her eyebrows before abruptly leaning down and grabbing the backs of the diva's thighs to lift her up, the diva instinctively knowing to wrap her legs around the Latina's waist this time around.

Their bodies mash together against the wall before Santana leans forward to reunite their lips. Rachel's hands tangle in her wet hair and the Latina starts grinding her hips in a steady rhythm against the diva's core. Rachel starts to positively pant, causing Santana to smile against her lips.

"Santana," the diva whines unevenly as she tears her lips away, causing the Latina to stop and look at the girl with concern. "We can't do this right now. My dads are right next door and we're supposed to be moving you back to your house."

Santana wants to groan at the all-too-familiar feeling of frustration running through her, but she can't really argue Rachel's point. This is so ridiculously not the time or the place to be doing this. Rather she sighs before lowering the diva to the ground. "Sorry," she offers with a little bit of a shrug. "I really can't help myself around you," she says sheepishly.

Rachel wears a bashful smile in return. "I know what you mean," she says with slight gruff, her tone of voice nearly making Santana lift off again.

Instead she pulls away, knowing that distance between their bodies is probably the safest tactic at this point. "Alright," she rubs her hands together as she walks back towards her bag. "So, where should we start?"

* * *

It's not long before all four (soon to be three) Berry household occupants are standing in the front entryway, about to bid a fond, or at least semi-fond, farewell. As Santana stares at the three Berries standing in front of her like a receiving line, displaying varying levels of sadness, she starts to feel like a kid leaving a week-long sleep-away summer camp―knowing that no matter what relationship you maintain with the friends you've made that week, it'll never be quite the same.

She approaches David first, who reaches his hand out for a handshake. Santana meets his hand with her own, and though the handshake is firm, it's definitely not the same handshake they had the day they met―one that was meant to let the Latina know, loud and clear, that she was unwanted company. Instead, this one is almost friendly and, as Santana looks up at the man's glass-shielded eyes, she's almost sure she can make out a glint of compassion... though it's entirely possible it's just glare from the glasses.

"It was nice meeting you." It's said with blasé kindness, but, for the first time, Santana actually believes it.

She smiles and nods at the man, "You too."

Her heart almost drops out of her body as she turns to face Kevin, though, who looks to be on the verge of tears. She smiles kindly and reaches her hand out for a handshake, earning an unimpressed look from the large man.

He lightly chuckles, "Fuck. _That_." He reaches out and grabs Santana's hand, pulling her in for a firm hug. The Latina relaxes into his shoulder with an ease she had not expected. "As painfully annoying as you are," he starts again, prompting Santana to roll her eyes. "―I'm truly gonna miss you around here, kiddo." The man's voice slightly breaks and Santana can feel a tear hit the top of her scalp.

It's at this point that tears start to threaten her own eyes and she shifts her focus to keeping them at bay rather than to the sentiment that is contained in this moment, with this man who has essentially, and incredibly quickly, become a sort of surrogate father to her.

Santana pulls back with a shy smile, unsure if she can speak without her own sadness manifesting in whatever words she would form, if she were able to form any at all. She just nods at the man in acknowledgement before turning towards Rachel, who is standing by the front door waiting for the Latina with decidedly red eyes.

To Santana, staring at Rachel in this moment is like staring at the girl you had an epic love affair with at camp―an affair so fleeting, yet so meaningful―and knowing you're about to say goodbye, unsure of when or even _if_ you'll ever meet again. She knows it's a ridiculous thing to be thinking―at the very latest, she'd see the diva in school on Monday―but it doesn't lessen the impact or the power of the moment.

Santana abruptly shakes her head and tries to steel herself, wondering where the hell all these completely unwanted emotions have started to well up from. _Fucking hell, Lopez, don't lose your shit_.

She walks towards the door, simply turning around and shooting a wave at the two men in her wake before exiting the house entirely, Rachel following shortly behind.

* * *

**Coming up next: the return to the Lopez household and some quality time with some quality friends. :)**


	17. Chapter 17

It's only slightly past 1pm when the pair pull into Santana's surprisingly plowed driveway, in Rachel's car, after an uncomfortably silent drive. Rachel sighs heavily as she turns off the ignition, reluctantly climbing out of the vehicle to help the Latina with her bags.

They enter the front hallway and dump the bags on the floor before Santana turns towards Rachel with a sad smile and finally breaks the prolonged silence. "So, I guess this is it."

The diva nods. "I guess so," she confirms with unmistakable sadness.

Santana sighs as she reaches forward to take one of the diva's hands into her own, running a soothing thumb across the back. "You know, it's not gonna be the same being back here... alone." She slightly frowns as she comes to a realization. "I actually _liked_ not being alone..." she remarks with a bit of surprise, keeping her eyes on their conjoined hands.

Rachel looks down shyly, running her free hand along her upper arm. "Well," she starts with a bit of a shaky voice. "You wouldn't have to be so lonely if you just moved in with me," she looks up with hopeful eyes. "―_and_ my dads," she amends quickly, her eyes widening as she notices her omission, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Santana looks at the diva for a prolonged moment before averting her eyes, sighing heavily and running a hand through her hair that she lets tangle briefly at the back of her head.

Rachel nods in silent acceptance, but Santana still feels the need to speak.

She moves her hand out to the diva's cheek. "It's not that I don't _want_ to... I mean, I've loved hanging out with you and your dads this past week, it's just..." she pauses, trying to figure out what she wants to say. She takes a deep breath and releases it as a long sigh. "My mom's house is still where I live. All my stuff's here―_lots_ of stuff..." she shakes her head just thinking about it. "And even if my mom's never here, I still feel like _I'm_ supposed to be."

Rachel nods again, noticing once more how the Latina never referred to the house as her home. She puts on a small smile despite her disappointment, but Santana can see right through it.

She reaches out to take the diva's other hand as well and tugs on them lightly to gain the girl's attention. "Besides, it's kind of hard to 'date' when we're living in the same house..." she trails off with a playful smirk, trying to goad the girl into agreement. "Not to mention the bed patrol..."

Her ploy at least slightly works as Rachel's mouth splits into a bit of a smile―a real one this time―and she nods. "I'm gonna miss you," she says softly, looking up with sad Bambi eyes.

Santana smiles gently, "I'll miss you too." She bites her lip slightly in thought, wondering if she should... "Come over later tonight? After dinner or whatever..."

Rachel looks up curiously.

"I'm hanging out with Puck, so... you should come hang out with us―help me police him or whatever," she offers with a bit of a shrug and a smile. She knows it's not entirely the greatest idea in the world, but she wants Rachel there. She can't explain why, but she does.

Rachel smiles, though the Latina can tell she's slightly nervous at the prospect.

Santana just pulls the diva into a hug. "He doesn't bite," she whispers playfully into the diva's ear before pulling back with a slight smirk. "Though I can't say the same for myself..."

Rachel rolls her eyes with a bit of a chuckle. "Ok," she says softly. "I'll come over."

The Latina smiles wide, "Good," before leaning in to kiss the diva firmly.

When they separate, Rachel is wearing a wide smile as well and she nods before turning to leave, but Santana tugs on her hand once more, pulling her in for a deeper kiss. She wraps her arms around the diva's waist, the smaller girl automatically throwing her own arms around the Latina's shoulders. The kiss heats up quickly, with tongues getting reacquainted and hands starting to roam, the pair only splitting apart when oxygen seriously becomes an issue.

Santana drops her head to rest on Rachel's, her eyes still closed. "Can you just stay here... for, like, _ever_?" she breathes out.

The diva's chuckle vibrates against her head. "You know I would if I could," she says softly, her eyes also closed.

Santana's not sure how long they stay in their tight embrace before a familiar ringtone breaks the moment.

"Let me guess," the cheerleader chuckles softly as she opens her eyes. "David?" she ventures with a raised eyebrow.

Rachel reaches into her pocket to retrieve phone before looking down at the ID. "Yeah," she breathes out quietly. "I guess I should get going..." she muses aloud as she runs her thumb along the side of the handset, making no motions towards actually answering the call.

The ringing stops and Santana waits a few moments before speaking again. "You know, 'getting going' usually involves actually _leaving_..." she trails off teasingly, letting her hands run along the waistband of the girl's jeans.

Rachel still doesn't pull her forehead away. "Why does it sound so much easier than it is?" she asks, shifting her gaze up from her phone to the Latina's eyes.

The sadness in those eyes makes Santana sigh before she does pull her forehead back, lifting one of her hands to tuck some flyaways behind the diva's ears. "If everything were easy, we wouldn't enjoy the payoff as much."

"But why is it so _hard_?" she asks softly.

Santana smirks, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be able to feel that..." she trails off, shooting a quick glance down their torsos in indication before looking back up at the diva and raising her eyebrows.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "You have to make everything dirty, don't you?"

The Latina nods matter-of-factly. "Yes, I do strive to make everything better," she smiles.

Rachel chuckles before lifting to her toes and kissing the Latina softly. "I'll see you tonight," she says with a slight smile.

"Yeah you will," Santana confirms with a nod before bringing the diva's hand up to place a soft kiss on it.

With that final parting, Rachel turns on her heel and heads out of the door with Santana staring intently after her, leaning in the open doorway. She watches as the diva climbs into her car, and as she pulls out of the driveway, and as she waves before she accelerates down the street; and, this time, the Latina waves back.

As soon as the door closes and she slides the deadbolt shut once more, the all-too-familiar feeling of emptiness invades Santana's heart. She turns around, leaning her back on the front door and releasing a heavy sigh as she stares at the barren interior of the house. _Welcome home_, she muses with a bit of an annoyed scoff before heading into the house to put her things away.

Putting things away doesn't come easy, though. Santana spends close to half an hour just lying on her back on her bed, which is remarkably cold, staring at the ceiling with her still packed bags sitting next to her. _I don't want to be here_. It's a striking revelation. Though she's never really felt that cushy feeling of being 'at home' in her own house, she had never really felt it _anywhere_ before being at the Berries'. It's only now, with a sudden crushing blow of depression, that she realizes how empty her home life has truly been.

_Fuck this_, she groans in utter boredom and frustration. She sits up abruptly and reaches into her bag to grab her phone.

'Come over?' she taps out quickly before hitting send, hoping that a bit of company will do her some good.

'You're home?' comes the response.

'Yup.'

'Ok, I'll be over in 20.'

With that settled, Santana heads down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. As she peers in the fridge, though, she realizes that all the produce she bought last weekend has gone almost completely rotten. _Fucking hell_. She pours herself a glass of water and takes a large chug before setting to cleaning out the fridge.

She's just wiping the last of the disgustingly thick black liquid from the bottom of the crisper when the doorbell rings. She slides the crisper back into the fridge and tosses the soiled paper towels into the sink before heading to the door.

She opens the door with a smile, "Hey Q."

"Hey S," the blonde greets with a matching smile before entering the house.

The pair head back into the kitchen, where Santana pops open the fridge once again. "Drink?" she offers with a raised eyebrow.

"Sure," the blonde smiles. "Water's fine."

Santana shakes her head, "No, I mean _drink_-drink."

"Oh..." Quinn draws out, glancing over at the clock on the microwave, the time barely past 2pm. She arches an eyebrow. "Isn't it a little bit early?"

The Latina just shrugs. "No time like the present."

Quinn shrugs in return with a bit of a chuckle, "Alright, why not."

Santana smiles before leaning back into the fridge and grabbing the jug of, luckily, still-good orange juice. She reaches up into the cupboard to grab two large glasses and a bottle of vodka before settling down again.

"And hard liquor, too..." Quinn observes with a chuckle, slightly shaking her head. "Something tells me you have something you want to talk about," she ventures with another raised eyebrow.

"Maybe..." the Latina draws out embarrassedly, rather pouring the drinks than turning to face the blonde as she speaks.

She finishes up, tossing the OJ back into the fridge before walking over to the blonde and handing her one of the glasses. "Wanna stay over tonight?" the Latina asks simply as she starts towards the living room, waving over her shoulder for the blonde to follow.

Quinn smirks. "So, you're really set on this 'us having sex' thing, aren't you?"

Santana rolls her eyes despite the fact the girl behind her can't see it as they enter the living room. She smirks as she plops down onto the couch. "You know, _you're_ the one who keeps bringing it up... keep it up and I might start to think that you're the one who wants to have a little quality 'Quinntana' time between the sheets," she observes, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

The blonde's eyes go wide as she settles onto the couch herself. "'Quinntana'?" she laughs out. "I'm thinking _you're_ the one who's more fixed on this since you even have a name for us!"

"Hey," the Latina chides playfully. "For the record, 'Quintana' is a good, solid Spanish name... one that just happens to incorporate both of _our_ names."

Quinn grows incredibly smug and speaks with a bit of surprise. "Oh my god, you've _totally_ thought about this!" she laughs. Santana groans and rolls her eyes, but the blonde presses on. "Whatever would our children's names be?" she muses, raising a hand to her chin and looking up in mock-thought.

Santana's brow drops. "'Asshole' and 'Fatty'," she deadpans. "They'd be named after _you_."

Quinn just laughs even harder, dropping a hand to her stomach―her abs starting to hurt a bit from their current workout―and raising the other to wipe a tear from her eyes. "Oh my god," she breathes out exasperatedly, struggling to catch her breath.

"You done?" the Latina asks with an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

"Well apparently not considering you're under the impression that we're having two children together..." the blonde trails off with a smirk.

"Ha fucking ha," Santana monotones with a narrowed gaze. "You're just too funny for your own good, aren't you, Fabray?"

The blonde smirks once more, "I'm fucking hilarious and you know it."

The brunette chuckles and shakes her head. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." A silence settles in for a few minutes before Santana speaks again. "Wanna watch a movie?" she ventures, turning towards the blonde with a raised eyebrow.

Quinn smiles and nods, "Horror?"

Santana mirrors the smile and nod before popping up from her seat and heading to the entertainment unit, motioning for the blonde to follow. "Cult, mainstream, or foreign?"

Quinn walks over and purses her lips as she looks up in thought for a moment. "Let's go foreign today. I've never seen a foreign horror movie."

Santana looks up at the girl with an incredulous look. "You've never seen any J-horror?"

The blonde's brow furrows in confusion.

"Japanese," the Latina elaborates, earning a shake of the head from the ex-cheerio. Santana chuckles in disbelief as she turns back towards the shelves. "You know, I'm starting to think you're not the horror connoisseur you made yourself out to be..." she teases.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I expressed an _interest_ in horror movies. How was I supposed to know that you're secretly Bram Stoker or some shit?"

Santana chuckles, "Well, on the bright side, you just made our movie choice _really_ easy." She grabs a well-worn case from the shelf and hands it to the blonde.

"'Battle Royale'..." she draws out, reading over the back of the case before looking up with a raised eyebrow. "Is it any good?"

The Latina just nods and smiles wide, "One of my favourites."

* * *

It's a couple hours before the movie ends, both girls having finished their drinks. Quinn turns towards the Latina with a bit of amazement. "Ok, _that_ was actually pretty awesome. It was like natural selection, but on a relatable scale."

"Right? Total survival of the fittest," she answers simply with a wide smile.

"Can you imagine if that happened in real life―to our year?"

Santana chuckles, "I'm betting me, you and Puck would be the last ones standing."

"Oh, without a doubt," the blonde smiles. "But who out of the three of us would survive? I mean none of us would be smart enough to bypass the neck monitors."

The Latina shrugs with a smirk. "We'd just have to hope that Jewfro and the rest of the supernerds had figured it out before we killed 'em off."

Quinn chuckles and the pair fall into a bit of a comfortable silence, the dvd menu music keeping them company in the background.

"So..." Santana draws out. "Another drink?"

The blonde nods with a smile, "Sure."

The Latina pops up and heads to the kitchen, mixing a couple more drinks―making her own significantly stronger than the blonde's―before heading back out to the living room, handing the blonde her drink, and settling onto the couch once more.

She keeps her eyes on her own drink for a few moments, taking long swigs, wondering if she has the balls to ask what she really wants to ask.

"You're drinking faster," the blonde observes as she takes a sip of her own drink, having noticed it to be a theme with the Latina. "What is it you want to talk about?" she ventures softly with a raised eyebrow.

Santana quickly chugs most of her drink before placing the glass down on the coffee table, raising her hands to run them over her face. She takes a deep breath and releases it as a long sigh before chancing a look up at the blonde. "What does love _feel _like?" she asks softly.

Quinn's brow completely furrows. "Oh my god, are you in love with Rachel fucking Berry?" she asks flatly.

The Latina rolls her eyes with a scoff before narrowing her gaze. "Fuck you, Tubs. I just wanna know what it is that everyone's always going on and on about..."

The blonde sighs heavily. "S, there's no single, universal feeling of 'love'. Everyone I've ever loved has given me a different feeling. I mean, in one way or another, I love _you_―"

"And yet you won't even sleep with me," the brunette deadpans, shaking her head in silent reprimand.

Quinn laughs through a scoff and rolls her eyes. "You want an answer or not?"

Santana is smiling wide in satisfaction but nods, truly curious.

The blonde hesitates for moment, seemingly thinking about it. "I guess the best way to put it is that you just _click_... like me and you, for instance. We click, but it's on a friendship level."

Santana raises an eyebrow. "So how do you know, say, that me and you wouldn't click romantically?"

Quinn's brow drops, "Um, because I'm straight?"

The Latina scoffs. "Not when _I'm_ through with you," she says smugly with a wink.

The blonde rolls her eyes. "Ok, _now_ you're just starting to sound like Puck."

Santana chuckles softly before deciding to push the conversation forward. "Ok, so we've gotten as far as 'clicking'... where does the 'love' part come in?" she asks curiously, lifting her legs up onto the couch to sit cross-legged.

Quinn's brow furrows slightly, the girl obviously having trouble putting her thoughts into words. "I mean, I guess you just click on so many different levels, and..." she trails off. "Fucking hell, I'm no expert on this shit," she groans. "You just _feel_ it."

Santana is staring at the girl blankly. "Yes. My initial question was what that feeling_ is_."

Quinn takes a long swig of her own drink before groaning, "I guess it's all the stupid stuff that you read about in fairy tales―butterflies, the inability to refrain from smiling when you see them, that feeling where all you want to do is touch the other person and sometimes you're convinced that if you couldn't, you'd die."

Santana's heart speeds up, but not in a good way, as Quinn starts reciting the exact list of feelings she's been experiencing for the past couple weeks now. _Bullshit._ Her breathing starts to grow uneven as she stares down at her lap, quickly grabbing her glass from the table and chugging down the tiny remainder. _I don't love_. She steels her expression before looking up at the blonde again and rolling her eyes.

"Ok, thanks, Walt Disney," she scoffs. "I'll try to keep an eye out for those," she sticks her tongue out at the blonde, who rolls her eyes in return.

"Whatever," Quinn shakes her head. "I told you I'm no expert." A few minutes of silence pass before she speaks again. "Another movie?"

Santana nods before raising a curious eyebrow. "Do you think I should invite B over?"

The blonde looks up in slight shock, Santana's question being just about the last one she had expected. "Um, yeah, I suppose. I mean I'd love to hang out with B, and I'm sure she'd be really happy to hear from you," she half shrugs in ambivalence, but her tone is a knowing one.

Santana quickly realizes that in trying to give Brittany breathing room, she's actually been driving a wedge into their relationship. She sighs. "Oh, and fair warning, I'm supposed to hang out with Puck tonight..." she trails off with a slightly apologetic smile. "So, he'll probably make his way over here at some point."

Quinn takes a sip of her drink and sighs. "That's fine," she waves a dismissive hand. "At least Puck equals beer, which means it'll be easier for me to put up with him."

Santana chuckles, "And Rach is coming over later tonight, too."

The blonde raises an eyebrow. "And you want me to sleep over? I am _not_ having a threesome―especially not with the hobbit," she deadpans.

Santana raises an unimpressed eyebrow in return. "Names," she chides firmly. "Not to mention, I don't remember inviting you for that part..."

"_Please_," Quinn ribs with a smug smile. "I think we've already established that you want some of this," she points a finger at her own body and nods her head slightly.

The Latina rolls her eyes with a scoff, "You fucking wish, Fabray."

The blonde chuckles before growing slightly serious, raising a curious eyebrow. "So, do you really think it's a good idea to have both Brittany and Rachel over at the same time?"

Santana worries a lip between her teeth but slightly shrugs. "I mean, I still want to be friends with B, and Rachel is my girlfriend... I just, I really want them to get along."

Quinn nods, raising her knees to her chest. "Yeah, I can understand that. I'm just worried that B's gonna feel like the fifth wheel in this situation..." she trails off, taking a small sip of her drink.

Santana raises her own eyebrow, "What, tonight?" The blonde nods, causing the Latina's brow to furrow. "'Fifth wheel' implies that you and Puck are a couple..."

The blonde rolls her eyes once more. "Well, we're whatever we are. And if we're drinking, I'm sure Puck's gonna want to cuddle... and I'm sure you and Rachel are gonna wanna cuddle..." she slightly shakes her head as that particular image enters her mind. "Anyway, point being B's not gonna have anyone to cuddle with."

The Latina's brow drops slightly as she mulls over Quinn's words. She's right, but Santana still wants to give it a try. "So, we'll try not to be too couple-y and you guys do the same," she suggests simply.

Quinn scoffs and nods, raising her hands in innocence. "Not a problem on my end."

"Ok then," Santana smiles before reaching into her pocket to grab her phone.

She taps out a quick message, 'Want to come over and hang out with me and Q?'

Brittany's response comes quickly and makes the Latina smile further, 'Ok! :) :) :)'

Quinn raises an eyebrow, "What'd she say?" Santana just holds up the phone for her to read, and she chuckles. "Well, good."

Santana types out a message to Puck next, 'My house tonight. Bring beer.'

'Cool who else'

'Q, B, and Rach.'

'I like those odds.'

The Latina chuckles and rolls her eyes, sensing the boy's smug expression even via text, before another message from the boy comes in.

'Wut time?'

She looks over to Quinn, "What time do you want to start drinking for real?"

The blonde mulls it over for a minute. "After dinner," she answers simply.

Santana nods and looks down at her phone again, 'Anytime after 7.'

'Cool' comes the simple response.

She plays with the phone between her hands for a short while before deciding to text Rachel and let her know what she's getting into. 'Tonight's gonna be a group thing - me, you, Quinn, Puck, and B... And beer, if you're into that ;P' She slightly hesitates, reading the message over a few times before finally hitting send.

A goofy grin spreads across her face when the diva's response comes in. 'Ok :) I miss you tons and I will see you tonight xoxo'

When she looks back up at Quinn, the blonde has an eyebrow arched again.

"Rachel?" she surmises.

Santana can feel a blush spread across her cheeks and she nods sheepishly.

"You are _so_ fucking head over heels, it's fucking gross," the blonde teases.

"Fuck you, Stretch-marks Armstrong," Santana pounces defensively.

"Calm it down, Tits McGee," Quinn chuckles, hands raised in submission again. "I'm totally just messing with you," she assures the girl with a smile, though internally she's growing pretty convinced that the Latina's feelings for Rachel are a lot deeper than she's letting on.

A wholly uncomfortable silence settles in, Santana considering the many ways she could verbally assault Quinn to get back at her, before she simply gets up and heads to the dvd player to put the disc away. "We should probably wait for B before we watch another movie," she comments lamely, for no other reason than to break the silence.

The blonde just blinks, following the Latina's movement with her eyes, more than slightly taken aback by how touchy Santana seems to be on the topic of Rachel―or, more specifically, _loving_ Rachel. There was no witty retort, no backtracking, she just let it slide. Santana Lopez _never_ lets things just slide. It's in this moment that Quinn becomes convinced that the girl actually _is_ in love with Rachel.

It's a few minutes before Santana has the movie put away and has switched the system back to the cable feed, settling back onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

Quinn looks over with a slightly apologetic smile, "I didn't mean to piss you off, S. I mean, we're _always_ assholes to each other. It's just how we do," she adds with a bit of a smirk and a shrug.

At Quinn's words, the Latina suddenly realizes how her own words and actions over the past few minutes must have been perceived by the blonde. She looks over with a slight smile and a shake of her head. "Don't worry about it, you didn't even piss me off. I don't know why I snapped. I have no clue where my head is at right now... I'm just PMSing or some shit," she says simply, hoping the blonde will buy what she's selling.

Quinn nods, though she doesn't believe a word of it. "No worries, Lopez. Just try not to fire off the cannons when they're not called for," she ribs.

Santana just rolls her eyes before shifting her focus to the tv.

It's only about 10 minutes before the doorbell rings and Santana pops up from the couch again, making her way to the door. She opens it to see a wide-smiling, slightly blushing blonde on the other side. She immediately reaches out her hand to pull the girl in for a tight hug, letting her arms wrap around the blonde's shoulders, unsure if she's doing it for Brittany's sake or for her own.

When they separate, they both look down with shy smiles.

"Hey, B," the Latina breathes out softly, eyes maintaining their sudden interest in her socks as she takes a few steps back to let the blonde come in.

"Hey, S," the blonde greets in kind, stepping further in to close the door behind her.

Santana's not sure how long they stand there like that before she chances another look up at the girl with a bit of an awkward chuckle. "When did just _hanging out_ become so difficult?"

Brittany looks up with a bit of a smirk. "That's a pretty silly question." It's said good-naturedly, not at all meant to be malicious, but it cuts to Santana's core just the same.

She sighs and looks down, the all-too-common feeling of horrible infiltrating the ostensibly happy buzz she's been riding for the past few hours. "I'm sorry," she says softly.

"Stop beating yourself up about it," the blonde says firmly, causing Santana to look up with her brow furrowed in confusion. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop being sad, and cheer the fuck up, S." Santana's eyes go wide. "We were never a couple, you didn't do anything wrong," the blonde shrugs.

The Latina stares at her in surprise for a few moments before sighing. "I'm just sorry for making you feel bad, I guess."

Brittany rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a bit of a frustrated chuckle. "You need to stop assuming that you know how I feel." Santana looks up with wide eyes once more and the blonde shakes her head again. "I mean, yeah, ok, I was mad at first... and maybe a little hurt... but I'm not a glass vase. You didn't break me."

Santana is almost rendered immobile in shock as she continues to stare at the blonde in silent confusion for a few moments, wondering where this self-assured, confident, well-spoken version of Brittany has emerged from―this Brittany who stood up for her and Rachel in glee, this Brittany who seems to have an innate understanding of the world and how to move through it, this Brittany who just manned up and let Santana know that the time to stop being a whiny little bitch is now.

She shakes her head but stutters slightly as she speaks. "Well, you know, I-I just, I thought th-that with everything―"

"Don't flatter yourself." Brittany smirks slightly again. "Just because you happen to be hot, doesn't mean I'm gonna cry myself to sleep every night because of you... and just because I love you, doesn't mean I'm going to try to fuck your life up so that I can have you again."

Santana just raises an eyebrow, unsure of whether she should be angry or sad or relieved, her current emotional response stuck on confused.

Brittany rolls her eyes again. As much as she may not be the brightest crayon in the box intellectually, when it comes to emotions, Santana is an absolute dunce. "S," she breathes out softly, reaching out to link her pinkie with one of the Latina's own. "If all we can be is friends, then I'm ok with that. I just want you in my life," she explains with a reassuring smile.

Santana stares at their pinkies for a few long moments, a smile spreading across her face as she does, before looking up at the girl. "You're my best friend, B. I don't know what I'd do without you."

The blonde nods with a bit of a smug smile, "I know."

Santana just chuckles and shakes her head slightly before tugging on the girl's pinkie. "Shall we?" she offers with a kind smile, gesturing her head towards the living room, earning a nod in return.

* * *

It's a couple hours, a couple frozen pizzas, and another movie before the doorbell rings again, undoubtedly marking Rachel's arrival.

Quinn actually releases a bit of a groan at the sound, dropping her head onto the back of the couch. "S, you better come back with more drinks," she whines, shaking her empty glass. "If going to the mall with her taught me anything, it's that I'm not sure I can handle Berry sober."

Brittany stifles a laugh and Santana rolls her eyes, firmly punching the ex-cheerio in the arm before getting up from the couch and shooting a cold but playful stare in her direction as she heads out into the hall.

Once she gets to the door, she smirks, leaning her eye to the peephole to see that it is, in fact, the diva. "We don't want any," she says firmly through the door.

Rachel's eyes shift up to the small speck of glass on the door before she speaks. "Santana..." she draws out in a tone of voice that is oddly motherly, in an 'I'm-going-to-nag-you-to-death' sort of way. "It's cold out here and my fathers aren't going to leave until they see I've gotten in safely."

Santana shifts the position of her eye on the peephole to see that the telltale black SUV is sitting at the end of her driveway idling. She sighs at the immediate dissolution of her plan and leans back to open the deadbolt, letting the diva enter before leaning out to wave to the two men in the car, who wave back kindly.

She closes the door and turns back towards the diva, who is holding her jacket out in expectation. She quirks an eyebrow. "Seriously? Can't hang it up yourself?" she smirks.

Rachel scoffs playfully, raising a hand to her chest. "Oh, and here I was thinking that you were the perfect gentleman," she ribs before hanging the thing herself.

As soon as the diva's hands are free Santana reaches out to grab one, spinning the diva before pulling her in for a soft but deep kiss, letting her arms wrap around the smaller girl's waist. "I missed you," she breathes out against the diva's lips, surprised as she registers that it's the truth.

Rachel leans her head back, her body locked in place by the Latina's arms, with a smile and a bit of a blush. "I missed you too," she says softly before reaching behind her back to take the Latina's hands into her own, taking a small step back. She starts to sway their arms absently between their bodies as she quirks an eyebrow. "So is everyone here already?"

Santana smiles, "All except Puck. He'll be by in a bit."

Neither move for a few long minutes beyond their loose arms swinging, just staring at each other and smiling.

"Stop having sex in the hallway!" Quinn's voice comes from the living room, drawing wide eyes from the diva and a roll of the eyes from the Latina.

Santana just tugs on one of Rachel's hands, releasing the other and gesturing her head towards the living room. The diva nods and Santana turns and starts to walk, leading the girl by the hand.

"Fabray, I'm gonna put a fist-shaped hole in your face pretty soon," Santana warns as she enters the living room with Rachel trailing behind.

Quinn has shifted to recline across the couch with her head resting on her hand, and just arches an eyebrow. "Into fisting, are we?" she teases.

"Well," Brittany starts, causing Santana to immediately look down at her with wide eyes and a frantic shake of her head. The blonde cheerio smirks playfully and Quinn drops her head in laughter.

"Hello Brittany, Quinn," Rachel greets somewhat awkwardly, shoving her free hand into her jean pocket.

"Hey Rachel," Quinn greets in a simple monotone with a kind smile.

"Hey," the other blonde replies amicably.

Santana just stares pointedly at Quinn for a few moments before clearing her throat, causing the ex-cheerio to look up with a raised eyebrow.

"Move the fuck over, bitch," the Latina instructs simply, earning a smack on the back of her shoulder from Rachel. She looks over her shoulder at the girl in slight shock before turning back towards the blonde in front of her who is smirking and nodding.

"That's what you get," Quinn chuckles in satisfaction before standing, grabbing Santana's glass from the table on her way up. "I think I'm going to go get another drink anyway since you're totally slacking in your hostess duties." The Latina rolls her eyes and Quinn just turns towards Brittany. "Come help?"

The other blonde nods before standing and turning to face the two brunettes, "Rachel, did you want anything?" she offers kindly with a smile.

The diva looks over in a bit of shock, though she doesn't speak until Santana pokes her side. "Yes, please," she smiles in return. "A glass of water would be wonderful."

Brittany nods in response but Santana shakes her head and scoffs.

"Fuck that," the Latina voices. "Bring her what we're drinking," she instructs firmly before turning towards the diva and sticking out her tongue.

Brittany hesitates, looking back towards Rachel first, who nods and slightly shrugs in acquiescence. The blonde nods again before following Quinn out of the room.

"What are you drinking anyway?" the diva inquires with a raised eyebrow.

"Screwdrivers," Santana smiles down at the girl, leaning down to kiss her briefly before guiding her to take a seat on the end of the couch, abruptly dropping down next to her.

"So..." Rachel draws out warily. "Is this going to be ok? I mean, all of us hanging out together? Or should I expect Brittany to throw my drink on me?"

The Latina chuckles softly. "We're ok," she assures the girl. "I mean, I don't think we should throw down on the floor in front of her," she smirks. "But we're good," she smiles.

The diva smiles wide, and Santana can't help but lean in to steal another kiss before the two blondes return.

When the pair do return to the room, Brittany walks over and hands Rachel her glass.

"Thank you, Brittany," the brunette offers genuinely with a wide smile, simply earning a nod of acknowledgement in return.

"So," Quinn starts, plopping down onto the couch next to Santana and handing her her drink. "Horror movie number three, yes?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

Santana just smiles and nods as Brittany heads over to turn out the lights and Quinn fires up the dvd player, which already has the film choice in it.

Rachel tugs on the Latina's sleeve. "I don't think I like this idea..." she whispers, taking a sip of her drink and grimacing at the taste, it being _much_ stronger than her last experience with this particular beverage.

Santana turns towards the diva with a reassuring smile, leaning close to her ear. "I'll keep you safe," she reminds the girl simply, though the diva jumps slightly when the room goes dark. The Latina lightly chuckles and looks back over at the other blondes, who both seem to be distracted, before slyly sliding an arm around Rachel's lower back and leaning in once more. "Don't worry, with these two here there'll be so much talking that you'll barely hear the scary bits."

When she pulls back, Rachel is wearing a highly hesitant smile.

Santana just squeezes the girl's hip, raising an eyebrow. "Trust me?"

The diva nods.

"Just, you know, take my hand and we'll make it, I swear," the Latina smiles.

Rachel's brow furrows. "Are you speaking Bon Jovi to me?"

Santana shakes her head. "I'm pretty sure that's not a language..."

Rachel rolls her eyes and Quinn leans forward on the couch, turning her head to face the brunettes. "Can you two shut the fuck up already? The movie's starting."

Santana turns back towards the blonde with a glare. "Calm down, stretch-pants," she warns simply.

Scary music starts to emanate from the tv and, within seconds, Rachel's head is buried in Santana's shoulder. She chuckles softly before looking over at the other end of the couch to see that Brittany is already buried in Quinn's shoulder.

Santana smirks before leaning into Quinn's ear. "Guess B has someone to cuddle with after all, huh?" she winks at the blonde as she pulls away again.

Quinn looks over at the Latina with a murderous glare, earning nothing but a wry chuckle before Santana turns her attention to the movie.

* * *

They only make it about half an hour into the shitty popcorn horror movie that Brittany had selected before the doorbell rings again.

"Beer!" Quinn remarks excitedly as she pauses the movie, lifting her glass in solitary cheers before chugging the remainder of her drink. She places the glass down and moves to stand, but Santana stands faster and lightly pushes blonde back into her seat.

"Sit the fuck down, fatty."

Rachel kicks out a leg that connects with the Latina's thigh in reprimand, earning smirks from the two blondes.

Santana speaks pointedly at the diva. "What I meant was, 'Please, sit down. I will go answer the door'."

Rachel smiles and nods, earning a roll of the eyes and a bit of a groan from the Latina before she exits the room, flipping the light on in the room on her way out, earning a matching groan from the three occupants that makes her smile.

She slides the deadlock and opens the door to find Puck on the other side, obviously struggling to support the weight of a case of beer under each arm.

Santana's eyes go wide. "Holy fucking hell Puck, you're not supplying an army."

The boy smirks. "I don't know about you, but I plan on drinking my weight in smooth gold."

Santana rolls her eyes but, as Puck starts to struggle into the house, she reaches out to take one of the cases, foreseeing a potential drop in the near future.

"Thanks," the boy says a little sheepishly.

Santana scoffs as she turns towards the kitchen. "Oh, I'm doing it to save the beer, _not_ for you," she chuckles, drawing a roll of the eyes from Puck, who follows close behind.

They make their way into the kitchen and crack one of the cases open to stock the fridge. Santana grabs three beers from the case and hands them to Puck, who takes them but raises a curious eyebrow.

"Well, I'm not planning to drink _that_ fast..."

Santana smirks as she grabs two beers herself. "Believe it or not, I'm actually thinking of other people," she explains, turning to face the boy.

"I don't believe it," he deadpans.

Santana rolls her eyes before growing slightly playful. "_You_ have some catching up to do," she says simply, pointing towards the bottle of vodka sitting on the countertop. "Shot. Now. Entry fee."

Puck glances over at the bottle and huffs a laugh before walking over. He places the beers down on the counter before unscrewing the cap of the vodka and taking a healthy swig directly from the bottle.

"Atta boy," the Latina smiles.

Puck just rolls his eyes as he recaps the bottle, picking up the beers before following the Latina out into the hallway. "Oh," he voices in realization. "So I've been doing your snow removal for you."

Santana stops in her tracks and turns around with an expression that is half surprised and half amazed.

The boy shrugs. "I knew you weren't here, and I knew you'd get a ticket if it wasn't done."

The Latina smiles before stepping forward and wrapping the boy up in a bit of an awkward hug, the embrace hindered by the beers they are both supporting.

"I just drove over with the snow blower and did it. No big," he explains.

"Thanks, Puck," the girl breathes out as she relinquishes her hold on his frame.

"Well... you know how much I love ploughing," he smirks with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

Santana can't help but laugh as she turns to enter the living room once more.

Quinn arches a curious eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"Porn, obviously," Puck deadpans, handing bottles to both Brittany and Quinn before taking a seat in the chair next to the couch.

"Gross," Rachel says lightly as she takes the beer proffered by the Latina.

Santana smirks. "Another one for the list," she teases softly, patting the diva's thigh as she drops back down onto the couch. Rachel just rolls her eyes in return.

"Speaking of porn..." Quinn starts.

"That's a hell of a segue, Q," Santana chuckles before taking a swig from her beer.

The ex-cheerio rolls her eyes before pressing on. "Does everyone know their porn star name?" she asks cheerfully.

"'Blonde Thunder'," Brittany answers confidently, earning discerning looks from everyone else in the room.

Santana smiles kindly at the girl and shakes her head, "No, B."

Rachel furrows her brow. "How do you know your porn star name?" she asks curiously.

It's Puck who responds. "Simple. Your first name is the name of your first pet, and your last name is the name of the street you grew up on."

Quinn nods in affirmation before looking over to the diva. "For example, I'm 'Fluffy Mound'," she explains, earning laughs from around the room.

"And I'm 'Rusty Spring'," Puck adds, earning another round of laughs.

Brittany looks up in thought for a moment. "So that would make me... 'Charity Chesterfield'...?" she trails off unsurely.

Santana nods at the blonde with a reassuring smile before turning back towards Rachel. "And I'm 'Foxy Pearl'."

Rachel raises an eyebrow with a bit of a smirk. "You named your pet 'Foxy'?"

The Latina shrugs, "Apparently I had a thing for Pam Grier."

"So what about you, Rachel," Quinn voices between sips of beer. "If you decided to give up your dreams of Broadway to pursue a lucrative career in the pornography industry, what would your call sign be?"

The room turns to look at the diva expectantly and she looks down with a bit of a blush. "I don't know, actually. I've never had a pet," she laments sadly.

"Really?" Puck's surprised voice comes. "Not even a fish?"

Rachel just shakes her head without looking up. "My dads are too high maintenance, and I don't think they thought I'd be responsible enough," she explains, tearing at the label on her beer bottle.

Santana shoots the diva a kind smile and runs a reassuring hand up and down her back.

Rachel looks at the Latina with a thankful smile before turning her attention to the rest of the room with a raised eyebrow. "What did you all have?"

"Rusty's my dog," Puck smiles proudly. "He's ten years old now and as big as a fucking horse," he stretches his arms apart in indication.

"Fluffy was a fish," Quinn starts with a bit of a smirk. "Which just points out how highly ridiculous the name was," she chuckles to herself with a shake of her head.

"Charity's my cat," Brittany explains before dropping her brow in concern. "I'm pretty sure she's been using my phone to send sexts to the cat down the street, though."

The room turns their attentions to the blonde cheerleader once more with raised eyebrows and questioning expressions before Santana shakes her head and clears her throat, turning back towards the diva.

"And Foxy was my cat. My dad took her with him when he moved to Cleveland," she explains, a bit more sadness intruding on her voice than she had intended.

The other side of the room falls into a conversation about pets as Rachel takes one of the Latina's hands into her own. "I'm sorry, that really sucks," she remarks with an equally sad voice, shooting the Latina a sympathetic smile.

Santana just shrugs, "Whatever. Pets come and pets go."

"Have you ever thought about getting another one?"

She sighs, "Yeah, I've thought about it... lots of times, actually. I guess it's just never seemed practical."

"What do you mean?" the diva inquires with a curious eyebrow raised.

"Well, my mom's not too crazy about animals. She's half the reason my dad ended up taking Foxy anyway," Santana explains.

Rachel just nods her understanding, unsure of what to say.

"So what's the verdict now, then?" Quinn's voice comes from over the Latina's shoulder. "A movie or what?"

Santana turns and nods at the girl. "What's everyone in the mood for?"

"No horror," Rachel says quickly and firmly, earning a nod of agreement from Brittany.

"No musicals," Puck adds, speaking almost pointedly at the diva.

"Comedy?" Quinn ventures. "Seems like a good genre to go with drinking...?" she draws out questioningly.

Nods happen around the room and they all set to picking out a movie.

* * *

One movie turns into two, and by the time the second movie ends, almost a case and a half of beer have been spent.

Santana looks down at the girl on her shoulder to see Rachel fast asleep with the tip of her thumb in her mouth. She chuckles lightly, trying not to wake the diva, before looking over at the clock, the time nearing midnight. Though both Quinn and Brittany are staying in the spare bedroom, Rachel still has to go home―after all, there's no way David's gonna let her stay over at Santana's parentless house. She sighs heavily before softly shrugging her shoulder to bring the girl gently back into the waking world.

Rachel yawns and runs a heavy hand over her face without lifting her head.

"Hey sleepy," the Latina greets softly, earning a sort of murmur in response. "You should probably think about heading home, it's getting pretty late."

The sleepy girl audibly groans before speaking through a yawn. "Should I call my dads?"

Santana looks ahead in thought. Chances are that David and Kevin would be none-too-thrilled about their half-drunk daughter calling home for a ride, and it certainly wouldn't win the cheerleader any brownie points. She glances around the room to see Quinn and Brittany both fast asleep and Puck flipping channels on the tv, making commentary meant solely for himself, and quickly realizes that no one is _near_ sober enough to drive the girl home.

She sighs. "It might be a better idea if you took a cab," she suggests with an apologetic smile.

Rachel lifts her head and nods with a droopy smile―half due to tiredness and half due to the alcohol in her system. Santana chuckles and leans down to plant a soft kiss on the diva's head before easing her off of her shoulder and heading into the quiet hallway to call a taxi.

When Santana hangs up she turns back around to see that the sleepy diva has emerged into the hallway. "Hey," she greets softly.

"Hi," the diva responds groggily.

Santana walks up to the girl and takes her hands into her own, bringing one up to place a soft kiss on it before speaking. "So, did you have fun?"

The diva nods wordlessly with a broad smile before another yawn overtakes her.

Santana can't help but chuckle. The brunette just looks so adorable right now―her hair in a bit of disarray from her dozing off, her heavy eyelids sneaking down her eyes, a soft, almost ethereal look on her face. She feels a bit of a twinge in her stomach, but not the one she's used to. She doesn't want to fuck Rachel's brains out right now, she just wishes that she could rock her to sleep, that she could wake up next to her in the morning, that she could wrap her arms around this girl's tiny frame and just hold her until the world ends. Knowing it's impossible right now, though, she does the next best thing, tugging on the diva's hands and pulling her into a tight hug.

They stay in the embrace until a horn honks, and, with Rachel's lack of movement, Santana's pretty sure the girl has fallen asleep on her shoulder again. She chuckles softly before easing the diva off of her, holding the girl upright by her shoulders. "Hey," she breathes out softly before leaning in to brush her lips against the diva's.

Rachel's eyes slowly slide open when the Latina pulls away, a happy smile on her face. "Hey."

"Your cab's here," Santana says with a bit of sadness.

Rachel just nods. "Ok."

Santana reaches into the coat closet and grabs the diva's jacket before helping her put it on.

"There's my gentleman," the diva remarks with a bit of a chuckle.

The Latina chuckles and rolls her eyes in return before tugging the girl back around to face her and leaning in for another soft kiss. "I'll walk you out," she offers softly, earning a nod from the diva.

Santana pulls on Puck's jacket, the most easily available option, before taking Rachel by the hand and heading out into the cold. She leads the diva to the vehicle, smiling at the driver as they pass before opening the door for her and guiding her in. "Send me a text when you get home?"

Rachel nods with a sad smile, "Goodnight, Santana."

Santana nods. "Goodnight, Rachel." She closes the door and steps back so that the vehicle can back out, crossing her arms in front of her body to keep some of the warmth in. She watches the car drive until it disappears from sight before turning towards the house once more.

When she re-enters she can hear commotion in the living room, causing her to quirk an eyebrow. She hangs Puck's jacket back up in the closet before cautiously proceeding to the living room, where she finds a belligerent Puck trying to convince two unimpressed blondes that he's lucid enough to drive home.

"What the fuck are you bitches on about, I'm prefectly fine to drive!" the boy argues with a pronounced slur.

"'Prefectly', huh?" Quinn chuckles with a raised brow.

"Puck, mothers are against drunk driving," Brittany states matter-of-factly.

The boy stands still staring at the blonde cheerio in utter confusion for a moment, and a moment is all Santana needs. She takes the opportunity and rushes forward to grab Puck's car keys from his back pocket before rushing around to the opposite side of the coffee table.

The boy is wearing a sneer and looks poised to pounce right across the table and tackle the Latina. "Santana, give me my fucking keys," he says firmly, his words only punctuated by the fact that he used the Latina's full first name.

"No way, you are _not_ driving tonight," she says with equal firmness.

Puck rushes around the table with speed that Santana was not expecting, but she turns her body in time to shield her key-holding hand.

"Puck, it's a fucking five minute walk, just leave your fucking truck here overnight!" Santana groans, holding the boy's keys at arm's length as she struggles to keep them out of his much longer reach. Both blondes are still seated on the couch watching the scene play out in amusement.

"No fucking way, the last time I left my truck here overnight it was covered in eggs and shaving cream in the morning!"

Santana laughs at the memory and unintentionally lets her guard down, the boy lunging at the metal rings. Fortunately, Santana is of sounder mind and tosses the keys to Brittany on the couch before Puck can grab her now empty hand.

As Puck starts towards her, Brittany stands and rushes away before tossing the keys back to Santana, the pair now both laughing. Quinn stands up as well, and the three girls spread into a bit of a triangle formation around the coffee table. The boy starts towards Santana and she tosses the keys to Quinn, who tosses the keys to Brittany, who tosses the keys back to Quinn, Puck following along in the veritable game of monkey-in-the-middle.

This time Quinn simply pulls out the waistband of her jeans slightly and drops the keys in. Puck stops dead in his tracks and the blonde arches an eyebrow. "Try going down _there_ and it'll be sexual assault. Not to mention, I'm pretty sure S will kick your fucking ass," she smirks as Brittany and the Latina move to flank her―just like her Cheerio days.

He stares at the former HBICs of McKinley for a moment before groaning in defeat. "_Fine_." He grows silent for a few moments before looking up at the girls with a grin and a raised brow. "So, who do _I_ get to sleep with?"

Santana's brow drops completely. "The fucking fishes if you don't get the fuck out of my house!" she points a finger towards the hallway.

Puck raises a hand to his heart in mock hurt. "San, I'm offended. You have sullied my honour."

Quinn's brow furrows, wondering what any of this has to do with his honour, but Santana just raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Pretty sure you did that to yourself about 500 conquests ago, Pucky."

Puck rolls his eyes. "Seriously though," he looks pointedly at Quinn. "Any chance we can make it a nice, round threesome up there," he points up with a raised eyebrow.

The blonde scoffs. "You fucking wish, Puckerman."

The boy frowns. "Well I wish someone had fucking _told_ me this was gonna be the 'Sappho club', then I would've just taken my beer home."

Now Santana scoffs, crossing her arms, actually starting to feel a bit of anger welling up inside. "Noah," she growls, causing the boy to wince. He knows it's serious fucking business when the Latina refers to him by his first name. "You have two choices: either drag your disgustingly drunk ass home or sleep on the couch. What's it gonna be?"

All eyes are on Puck and he raises his hands in submission. "I just want someone to cuddle with is all."

Santana rolls her eyes heavily before starting to slightly laugh. "Well... if you _really_ want someone, there's always Lola."

Both Brittany and Santana double over in laughter as Puck and Quinn look on in complete confusion.

Puck furrows his brow, "Who the fuck is Lola?"

Brittany struggles to speak through laughter. "Lola is S's stuffed gay shark."

Quinn joins in the laughter and Puck's brow just furrows further.

"Dolphin. It's a stuffed dolphin," Santana wheezes. "A really big one, too," she stretches her arms out in indication.

Puck just groans and rolls his eyes.

"Hey, it's someone, right?" Quinn laughs.

Santana just grins before picking up the blanket from the back of the couch and chucking it at the boy. "Couch is all yours, stud."

* * *

**Wow, this chapter turned into a BEAST. Next chapter will come mid-week. Thanks for reading!**** :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: So this one's a bit shorter, but it's also (pelvic) thrusting us fully into the M rating, so there's that ;) This is defo NSFW. Enjoy!**

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* * *

_

Santana is sitting on the edge of her bed staring off into space when there's a knock at the door. She quirks a curious eyebrow and shifts her focus to the doorway as someone enters without waiting for a response―Rachel. The diva simply closes the door behind her, wearing a devious smile. She's dressed in a black corset with white lace detailing, sinfully tight black leather pants, and sky-high stilettos. It's probably the most impractical outfit Santana has ever seen, but she can't tear her eyes away as the girl approaches slowly, deliberately, with a mesmerizing sway of her hips. Santana finds herself unconsciously licking her lips.

_Rachel's hair bounces around her shoulders as she advances, Santana sitting in wait for the absolute fucking sex bomb in front of her. Rachel halts, though, just out of her reach, and as much as she'd like to, Santana can't seem to compel herself to get up from the bed right now―her body seemingly locked into place as her hands continue their futile attempt to make contact with the diva._

_Though Rachel stops walking, she doesn't stop moving. Rather she continues the sway of her hips, dancing on the spot, grinding her hips against the air in a painfully slow rhythm, running her hands seductively through her hair. Santana can feel her mouth run dry as she continues to watch and she feels a heavy twinge in a very familiar spot..._

_Rachel spins around so that her back is facing the Latina, her firm ass and the laced split of the corset now on display. The diva turns her head halfway back to watch the girl on the bed as she reaches a hand back to the ties, earning a bit of an impatient grunt in return. She wraps a hand around the loose tassels, but makes no move towards undoing them. Rather she bends down towards the ground, legs spread slightly apart, letting her free hand drop to the ground before running it up along the back of one of her leather-clad legs as she rolls her body back upright._

_Santana's heart is beating uncontrollably at the sight in front of her, unable to shift her focus from everything leather-clad―not that she would __ever_ want_ to―__her body starting to grow entirely restless. All she wants to do is move, to physically tackle Rachel to the ground and take her right here and right now, right on the fucking floor, but for the life of her she just can't make her body budge an inch. She starts to run her hands along her own thighs, letting her nails scrape against the denim, just trying to keep them at bay._

_Rachel turns her body back around to face the Latina once more, running her hands up the inside of her thighs before rising to the waistband of her pants. Her eyes stare innocently into Santana's own as she pronouncedly snaps the button open before slowly running the zipper down, revealing the black lace of her panties._

_Santana's breath hitches at even a hint of what's beneath the tight leather._

_Rachel leans down, starting to half slide and half tug the pants down, revealing more and more smooth, olive skin as she continues._

_Santana's nails literally dig into her thighs as the diva's striptease continues, and this time she's almost certain she's drawing blood; drawing blood from legs that just refuse to move._

_Once Rachel kicks her pants, seemingly effortlessly, to the side of the room, she takes another step forward, finally entering the Latina's bubble._

_Santana immediately reaches her hands out to feel the soft skin of Rachel's thighs as the diva continues to advance, dropping one knee onto each side of the Latina's body, now straddling her on the bed. Santana arches her neck to lick at the diva's throat, but Rachel pushes her down flat against the bed with strength that she was not expecting._

"_Rach," the Latina breathes out, more than slightly short of breath, as she stares up into the familiar brown eyes, eyes which read much closer to black at the moment. She lets her hands drift further up the diva's thighs, her thumbs grazing lightly against the black lace of the girl's panties._

_Rachel doesn't speak, but she reaches a hand down to run it along the side of the cheerleader's face. Santana can feel her face heat at the contact, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention, as the diva's hand continues to move down to her chin, a lazy thumb running along the length of her lips._

_Rachel leans down, letting her lips ghost across Santana's before arching her chest pretty much into the Latina's face._

_Santana's breathing stops and her mouth hangs slightly agape―half convinced that she might come right here and now―as the diva rolls back up again. The Latina can't keep her hands still anymore, letting them drift around the girl's hips before trailing down to grab her ass and deliver a healthy squeeze. Rachel slightly squeaks and Santana grins before sliding her hands up towards the laces of the diva's corset. She slowly and meticulously undoes the tidy bow before working on loosening the ribbon through the seemingly endless column of eyelets on the medieval contraption, her eyes never leaving the diva's own._

_Rachel smiles before leaning down once more, this time finally letting their lips meet as she runs her hand down the Latina's body towards the hem of her shirt. Santana moans at the mere contact and the diva runs a calculated tongue stroke along the inside of her upper lip. Santana darts out her own tongue to run it along the diva's before the fleshy appendage can completely retreat. Rachel lightly bites the Latina's lower lip before gently tugging on it, earning another moan from Santana, who has finally loosened the corset enough to proceed._

_She slides her hands back down the diva's back before proceeding up her abs, taking the black, boned fabric with her. Rachel sits up slightly and raises her arms to help the Latina in her endeavour, and Santana follows her up as she disposes of the corset completely. As Santana finally sees Rachel's body for the first time, her breath hitches again, and her eyes go decidedly pitch black as they sit almost level with the diva's chest. Santana leans forward and runs a lazy tongue between the girl's breasts as she lets her hands drift down the diva's neck, along her collarbones and to the sides of her breasts, letting the pads of her thumbs brush along the girl's areolas._

_Rachel moans but starts to tug at the hem of Santana's shirt urgently. The Latina leans back slightly, quickly ridding herself of the useless fabric before leaning in once more. She lets her hands roam along the diva's abs as she arches her head forward once more, shifting her mouth to kiss and lick at the underside of one of Rachel's breasts._

_Rachel's own hands run along the Latina's back and shoulders, seemingly mapping out the skin, before they come to rest on the clasp her bra. She deftly undoes the clasp before starting to slide the straps slowly down the Latina's shoulders. Santana leans back once more, tossing the bra aside unceremoniously before shifting a hand to the diva's lower back and turning over so that the diva is flat against the bed and she is hovering above her._

_Rachel's eyes look down their bodies, and Santana quickly realizes that this is the first time that the diva has seen her as well. She sits up so that the girl can have a better view, and smiles when she can see the diva's breath hitch in anticipation, her hands starting to work their way up the Latina's abs once more._

_Santana leans down again, releasing a soft moan when one of Rachel's hands makes contact with her already erect nipple, before reuniting their lips. When the diva's tongue makes its way into her mouth, she welcomes it and sucks it in with need, massaging it with her own. Their tongues continue in a lazy dance until Santana feels the diva's hands working on her jeans. She pulls away and looks down their bodies in shock before looking up at the girl's eyes, which are on fire. _We're really gonna do this,_ she smiles._

_She pulls away and stands to remove the jeans the most efficient way possible, quickly kicking them towards the side of the room before leaning back down and lifting the diva up towards the centre of the bed. Once they reach their destination, Santana grinds her hips down into the diva's centre, hard, drawing a pronounced gasp. She smirks before leaning in to reunite their lips yet again, letting her hips settle into a steady rhythm against Rachel's core―the increasing speed of Rachel's unsteady breaths and the upward thrusts of her pelvis letting Santana know that the girl is close. She quickly halts the movement of her hips, rather pulling her mouth away and starting to kiss down the diva's throat._

_Rachel's hands tangle in the Latina's hair as she starts a painfully slow journey down, taking her time to enjoy the taste and feel of the diva. She bites and licks at the soft skin along the diva's collarbones before trailing soft kisses down to her breasts, stopping briefly to take a nipple into her mouth―earning a pronounced groan―before proceeding further. She softly kisses her way down the diva's quivering abs, circling her tongue around the girl's belly button before continuing to the waistband of her panties. She hooks her index fingers into either side of the fabric as she drops her chin flat onto the girl's abdomen, staring up her body for permission._

_Rachel, though short of breath and slightly out of it, does look down and nods at the Latina with urgency, and that's all Santana needs. She places a soft kiss on the centre of the black lace before starting to tug down. She slides down to completely remove the diva's panties before moving back up, sliding her hands up the diva's smooth legs, kissing along her inner thigh, hooking one of the girl's legs over her shoulder before finally coming face to face with her sex for the first time. The scent that is uniquely Rachel wafts into her nostrils and she takes it in for a moment before finally leaning down to taste the girl she's been dying to taste for so long._

_She runs a lazy tongue up Rachel's entire length, drawing a pronounced moan as the diva's hands tangle in her hair once more, before starting to work her way in. She lets her lips and tongue graze every inch of sensitive pink skin in front of her before zeroing in on her bullseye. She presses her tongue flat against the insides of her lips as she leans down, wrapping her lips around Rachel's incredibly swollen clit. She lightly sucks the sensitive bud into her mouth, massaging it with her tongue, and the diva immediately starts to unravel._

"_Saaantaaaana," she moans out in an awkwardly high-pitched squeal as vibrations start to run through her body, her hands tugging much harder at the Latina's hair than she means to._

_Santana doesn't mind the pain, though, as she keeps her tongue massaging the girl's clit gently throughout the vibrations so that she can fully ride out her pleasure, one hand holding firm on the diva's hip and the other pressing down on her abs to keep her flat against the bed._

_Once the diva calms down, Santana takes a few last tastes of her before gently removing the diva's hands from her hair and moving back up her body. She hovers over Rachel, reaching out a free hand to smooth down the diva's heavily mussed hair. She leans down to kiss the diva softly before leaning back again, her weight supported by her hand flat against the bedspread._

_She continues brushing her hand through Rachel's hair and staring down into her sparkling eyes as a wide, adoring smile spreads across her face. "I love you, Rachel."_

* * *

Santana wakes with a start, feeling at once physically satisfied yet completely mentally fucked. _What the fuck was that?_ While she's accustomed to the occasional, if not frequent, sex dream, the specific footnote at the end of this one was something _entirely_ new. _Quinn fucking head-fucked me_, she muses angrily, thinking back to their conversation the previous day. She simply groans before shaking her head free of the thought, truly surprised at how refreshed she feels. She looks over to the clock to see the time―10am. Likely the rest of her houseguests would be waking up soon, so she decides to get up and get some sort of breakfast started.

She heads to the washroom first, but, as she does, she can hear hushed voices coming from her own bedroom. Apparently Quinn and Brittany are awake. She knows she shouldn't, but she approaches silently, too curious to resist listening in on whatever the two blondes are talking about so secretively. She hovers on the outside of the doorframe, the slightly ajar door aiding in her eavesdropping.

"So how are you doing with all of this anyway?" Quinn's raspy, sleep-laced voice comes.

She can hear Brittany sigh heavily. "I don't know. Alright, I guess."

There's a pause before Quinn speaks again. "You _seem_ to be doing ok."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to be a bitch about it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, yeah, I miss S. I want things to just go back to the way they were, but I know that's not gonna happen now that she's with Rachel."

Santana looks down and clasps her hands in front of her body.

"But at the same time," Brittany's voice comes again. "I don't want to mess her relationship up. And I don't want her to go messing it up because of me. She seems happy... and she's _never_ happy... but she deserves it."

Santana smiles sadly, her eyes fixed on her own hands.

"You're a stronger person than I am," Quinn says simply before lightly chuckling. "I probably would've set out to make Berry's life a living hell."

Brittany laughs softly in return. "Well, it's not like I didn't consider it."

Another silence falls between the two blondes before the cheerio speaks again.

"I just want to be friends with her."

"S?" Quinn asks with genuine curiosity.

"Yeah," she breathes out softly. "And Rachel, too, I guess."

"Really?" a surprised Quinn voices.

"Well, yeah. I mean, if S is going to be with her and I want to be S's friend, then I'm gonna have to get along with Rachel, too."

Quinn sighs. "I suppose that's true."

Santana can hear some rustling on the bed, assuming one of them must be shifting positions, before the ex-cheerio continues on.

"I just don't get it."

"Get what?" Brittany asks with confusion lacing her voice.

"The whole Rachel thing..."

"She's really nice."

"And incredibly annoying."

Brittany chuckles. "Maybe, but she's super smart, too."

There's a sadness in the cheerleader's voice that Santana can immediately read, and it makes her frown slightly. Brittany pegged it―the difference between herself and Rachel―and, unfortunately, it just so happens to be the one thing she is most self-conscious about. The Latina releases a soft sigh.

"Yeah, maybe in a know-it-all type of way," Quinn responds playfully, obviously trying to cheer the other blonde up.

"Does she love her?" Brittany asks suddenly, her voice soft and laced with genuine interest.

_No, obviously,_ Santana's mind answers the question, but there's a pause, and she strains to hear to make sure she's not missing anything.

"Honestly?" Quinn asks, which is followed by another silence. When Quinn speaks again, the Latina can only assume that Brittany responded in some sort of nonverbal affirmative. "Well―"

"You're up!" Puck's voice booms excitedly from the bottom of the stairwell. "I need some fucking _breakfast_!" he smiles as he rubs a hand on his probably overly-acidic stomach, raising his other arm above his head in an attempt to stretch his back.

Santana turns and flails at the boy to quiet down, but when she turns back towards the doorway the door is wide open and Quinn is standing there with her arms crossed, sporting an unimpressed gaze.

The Latina offers a guilty smile, knowing full well she's been caught. "Good morning," she greets softly before shooting her eyes down. "I... I was just coming to see whether you guys were up for some breakfast..." she trails off lamely.

"Uh huh..." Quinn monotones, obviously not believing a single word of it.

Brittany pops up from behind the ex-cheerio's shoulder, as cheerful as ever. "So, what's for breakfast?"

The three girls head down the stairs to join Puck before they all head into the kitchen. Puck and Brittany take seats at the kitchen table while Santana and Quinn set to figuring out what to eat. Santana leans into the fridge as Quinn leans her back against the counter next to the girl.

"So how much did you hear?" Quinn asks simply, her tone bordering on annoyed.

Santana rolls her eyes but doesn't pull her head out of the fridge, rather focusing on checking the expiry date on the carton of eggs. "Eggs are still good," she announces loud enough for the other two occupants to hear, holding the carton up in victory and earning sounds of delight.

"Just gonna ignore me, then?" the blonde prods further as the Latina puts the carton down on the countertop.

Santana just sighs and leans back into the fridge to check the bacon. "Q," she starts exasperatedly, but she really doesn't even know what to say, so she doesn't say anything. "Bacon!" she announces with glee as she stands upright once more.

"Fucking A," Puck cheers with a fist up in the air as Brittany smiles and nods, and even Quinn seems excited at this newest development―not that it keeps her silent.

"You know it's not polite to listen in on conversations that aren't your own..."

Santana positively groans as she closes the fridge and puts the bacon down on the countertop. "For fuck's sake, Q." She pauses to run a heavy hand over her face. "I'm sorry I listened to your shit, ok? It's not like you two were discussing the fucking secret to eternal life."

Quinn arches an unimpressed eyebrow, her arms still crossed in front of her body. "But it was still secret."

The Latina rolls her eyes once more as she opens the freezer to grab the bag of frozen hashbrowns she knows is in there. When she closes the door, the blonde is still looking at her. "Q, what do you want from me?" she asks tiredly.

The blonde lightly scoffs, "It was a pretty simple question, S. How. much. did. you. hear?" she emphasizes, raising another well-shaped eyebrow.

Santana just turns and picks up the other two food items from the counter before heading over to the stove. "Grab a few pans, would you?" she requests of the blonde, pointing to the pans hanging from a rack above the island.

"You're really not going to answer," Quinn shakes her head in disbelief as she obeys, grabbing a pan for each food item before handing them over to the Latina.

"Well, let's just get the food going first, alright?"

The blonde nods and the pair set to cooking, Santana tending to a pan of bacon and a pan of potatoes while Quinn tends to the pan of eggs. Santana flips on the fume hood and chances a glance back at the other two kitchen occupants before staring down at the pan of bacon. Though she's entirely sure the other two won't be able to hear her over the noise of the fan, she speaks softly.

"I heard B ask you if I love Rachel."

The blonde raises an eyebrow and looks at the Latina. "Ok..."

Santana furrows her brow before meeting the blonde's gaze. "You were gonna say 'no', right?"

"Would that have been the right answer?" Quinn asks curiously.

The Latina scoffs through a bit of a laugh. "You're fucking hilarious, Q." The blonde's expression doesn't change, though, and Santana's brow completely drops. "Q, are you fucking serious? Of course 'no' is the right answer."

Quinn just nods with pursed lips and turns her attention back to the eggs.

Santana looks discriminatingly at the side of the blonde's head. "What _were_ you going to say?" she asks seriously, a bit of anger intruding on her voice.

The ex-cheerio sighs and looks up tiredly. "Does it really matter?"

"Of fucking course it matters!" she says much louder than she intended, her eyes widening at the sheer volume. She chances a glance over to Puck and Brittany to see them both staring at her curiously. She just smiles and waves before turning back towards the food, giving the potatoes a quick stir before they absolutely burn to the bottom of the pan.

"I don't know, S," the blonde says simply.

Santana can feel the incredulity rising again. "What do you mean you 'don't know'?" she asks firmly.

Quinn sighs, feeling oddly backed into a corner. "Brittany asked me my opinion."

She leaves it there and the Latina finds herself growing more than frustrated. "_And_?"

The blonde chances a look up to see the cheerleader's eyes absolutely burning holes into her own. She chuckles lightly and shakes her head. "Of course I was gonna say no," she shrugs.

Santana simply nods in acceptance before turning back to tend to the bacon, and Quinn's eyes go wide. Either she's a much better liar than she ever gave herself credit for, or Santana is _so_ far in denial that she'll believe anything that vindicates her from the one L-word she fears the most.

Quinn just slightly coughs before turning back to her own pan.

It's not long before breakfast is ready, and the meal is quickly consumed, earning rave reviews from the pair who got away with doing nothing beyond eating. As everyone starts to get up from the table, depositing their dishes into the sink, Brittany turns towards Santana with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you want any help getting everything cleaned up?" she asks simply with a kind smile.

Santana just shakes her head. "Nah, I'm just gonna rinse the shit and throw it in the dishwasher, anyway."

Puck cracks his knuckles in front of his body. "Ok, so I'm assuming I'm sober enough to drive now, so... can I have my keys?" he arches an eyebrow.

Quinn rolls her eyes, "They're up in S's room on the nightstand."

The boy nods before leaving the room.

Quinn turns her attention to the Latina. "Ok, well I've gotta get going. See you in class?"

Santana just nods with a smile, "For sure." She advances to give the girl a friendly hug before the blonde turns and takes off.

Puck pops back into the kitchen to say goodbye as well. "Oh," he voices in realization as he pulls out of a hug with the Latina. "Don't forget," he points his index finger out. "My house on Friday," he smiles smugly.

Santana just nods with a smile and the boy mirrors the action before he turns to leave as well.

Brittany sighs somewhat awkwardly and turns to face the Latina once more. "So..." she trails off as she starts to approach. "I guess I'll just see you in school?"

Santana nods, meeting the girl halfway and wrapping her up in a tight hug. "See you tomorrow, B."

"See you tomorrow," the blonde echoes, pulling back from the embrace with a smile, simply giving a bit of a shy wave before taking off.

Santana just sighs as she turns towards the pile of dishes with a bit of a nod. _Alright then_.

* * *

She spends the majority of the day catching up on errands―showering, doing laundry, picking up groceries―and is just putting away the last of her groceries when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She tosses the new jug of orange juice into the fridge before retrieving the device, a wide smile spreading across her face when she sees who the new message is from.

'So I have something planned for us.'

Santana quirks an eyebrow as she taps out her response, shifting to lean her back against the counter. 'O rly? And what would that be?'

'A date. A real one. Next Saturday.'

She rolls her eyes with a bit of a scoff, 'So that would be our second "real" date, then.'

'Nope, first.'

Santana laughs and shakes her head, 'Nope. You totally called Friday a "date".'

'I may have had a verbal slip in the moment, but that doesn't change the fact that our first "date" was and is to be planned by me.'

She chuckles, 'I believe they call that a Freudian slip, actually :P'

':P that notwithstanding, should I be counting on your presence on Saturday?'

Santana smirks, 'I'll get back to you.'

'...?'

Her smirk doesn't fade. 'Oh, you know, a lot of things could change between now and Saturday... I just wouldn't want to get your hopes up for nothing ;)'

'I hate you right now.'

Santana laughs, 'You totally love me.'

Rachel doesn't respond, though, and the Latina starts to internally panic, thinking she may have managed to push the diva too far. She taps out another message quickly. 'So, Puck's having another party on Friday.'

'Oh yes?' comes the simple response.

'Yeah,' she types out before hesitating. 'So we can do that on Friday and then do the date thing on Saturday... How's that sound?'

The response comes almost right away and Santana immediately breathes a sigh of relief. 'Sounds good :)'

'Good :)'

To no one's surprise, no response comes in―after all, Santana hadn't exactly asked a question or anything. She plays with the phone between her hands for a few moments, quickly growing wary of the boredom that is bound to set in as soon as she puts the device away. She heads into the living room, settling onto the couch and popping on the tv before tapping out another message.

'So what are you doing?'

'Lying in bed. Considering getting up and getting dressed.'

Santana smirks, 'Oh, so you're naked? And in bed? I'm down with that. Should I come over? ;)'

':P no and no. I Should technically be getting ready.'

She raises a curious eyebrow, 'Ready for what?'

'Going out with my dads for dinner in a bit.'

'Oh yeah?'

'Yeah, we go out for family dinner every Sunday night.'

Santana is surprised to find herself slightly frowning, half of her wishing she had that sort of tradition with her own family and the other half of her mildly hurt that she wasn't invited. She shakes her head in silent reprimand. _Don't be fucking ridiculous, Lopez. You're not part of their fucking family._

'That sounds nice.' She taps it out and reads it over a few times, hoping the diva won't interpret how sad it actually is, before she hits send.

'Yeah. With dad's work schedule we don't get to do many dinners together during the week - as you saw while you were here. So, yeah.'

Santana doesn't really know what to say, so she keeps her response short and sweet. 'Cool.'

'What about you? What are you doing? Is anyone still there?'

'I am sitting on the couch doing shit all. And everyone left this morning after breakfast.'

'So what have you been up to all day?'

'Doing laundry, grocery shopping.'

'Fun fun.'

Santana scoffs lightly. 'If you're into that sort of thing, I suppose...'

'Lol. Well, do you have any plans for the rest of the day?'

'Nope. Just more laundry and some boredom.' She taps out. It's the truth, after all.

'Um, well, did you want me to see if you could come with us for dinner? I mean, I'm sure daddy wouldn't have any problem with it...'

Santana smirks. 'But David probably would...' she fills in the blanks.

'Don't worry about him. He'll be fine with it ;) so, what do you think?'

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, considering the situation. Truth be told, she _wants_ to go, but as she scrolls up and reads through their current conversation she grows entirely convinced that she's roped the girl into asking her in the first place. She sighs again as she taps out her message.

'Nah, it's your time with your dads. Have a good dinner and I'll see you tomorrow at school :)'

Rachel's response is slightly delayed, but does eventually come in. 'Well, ok... Have a good night :) xoxo'

Santana smiles, slightly sadly, before putting the phone down on the coffee table and shifting her gaze to the television, having no idea what's playing on the screen in front of her. She releases a heavy sigh as she collapses onto her back on the couch. For all the wanting to be alone she's been craving the past week, she had never realized that being alone could be so utterly _lonely_.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I think this is officially our longest chapter to date! (It really, really ran away on me, lol.) But! I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope it's an enjoyable read and I hope it was worth the wait! :)**

* * *

The next week passes by in a blur of caffeine, studying, minimal sleep, final assignments, and in-class exams. By the time Santana even knows what's happened, it's Friday again―the day of Puck's party. She's barely seen anyone over the past week, let alone spent any quality time with anyone―least of all Rachel, who she doesn't share a single class with. Though the pair had exchanged longing glances in the halls, a few stolen moments in the choir room, and a few sweet text messages throughout the six-day stretch, it was almost as if they hadn't seen each other at all.

With the prolonged separation in addition to Santana's already rising, bordering on toppling over sexual frustration, the Latina's temper had been running amok over the course of the week. She had lashed out at two teachers this week―Mr. Schue bearing the brunt of her misplaced aggression twice―earning herself a sit-down with Principal Figgins, who, as usual, really did nothing other than figuratively slap her wrist and warn her not to do it again. In addition, she had adopted an even stronger swagger while heading through the halls, shooting scowls and vicious, vicious words at anyone who dared cross her path―including the baby cheerios who had been growing a collectively oversized pair as of late. By Friday afternoon, students were outright ducking out of the way when they saw her coming, and, despite herself, that fact made her smile.

While being the HBIC and an uber bitch in general was old hat for Santana, what _were_ new were the unavoidable sexual urges and thoughts that she just couldn't seem to shake. Every skirt she saw she wanted to run her hands underneath, every bit of exposed cleavage she saw she wanted to bury her head into, even a slight bulge in a guy's pants was starting to get her going, and it was really all getting to be a bit much; and, certainly, her nightly smut-film-worthy dreams were doing nothing to quell her daytime cravings. Truth be told, she had been resorting to manually satisfying herself a lot more than she thinks is entirely healthy.

After making a few detours to pick up supplies for the weekend, she pulls into her driveway just after 5 and kills the ignition with a relieved sigh. _Hell week is over_. All that's left is a weekend of partying and a 3-day week of entirely pointless classes―filled with such educational hallmarks as a Christmas assembly and the yearly candy cane exchange―before Christmas break, an entire two-week stretch of no responsibilities and fuck all to do other than spend time with friends. A smile creeps across her lips as she thinks about it. Add to that the fact that she's finally going to get to spend time with Rachel tonight, and she finds herself grinning like an absolute idiot as she climbs out of the car and heads into the house, slightly shaking her head at herself.

She dumps her bags in the front hall and stops off in the kitchen to grab a granola bar before heading upstairs to her room. She takes a bite of the bar and pauses in the doorway, trying to decide what to do with herself in her newfound freedom. She glances over at her desk, which is still littered with textbooks and notes, before deciding to walk over. She simply drops her forearm onto the edge of the desk before sweeping her arm across its length and sliding the books unceremoniously to the floor. For fuck's sake, if she didn't still have finals and if she didn't have to ultimately return the books, she'd just burn them. She raises a thoughtful hand to her chin, staring down at the pile. _Hm, might still do that with the notes..._

She shakes her head and grabs her laptop from her bed, placing it down on the now clear desk before firing it up. She plops into the seat and stares out of the window, absently eating her granola bar as the ancient beast takes the appropriate number of years to turn on. (While she has disposable funds for a lot of things courtesy of her mom and her California bankroll, dropping a cool $1000 on the laptop she actually _wants_ is just not a feasible option.) Outside the sun is shining bright on the white snow and it's actually a really nice day in Lima, despite being fundamentally marred by the fact that the day is taking place _in_ Lima―the town that fun forgot.

Once the dinosaur has loaded up, she logs into Facebook and scrolls through her newsfeed to see what everyone's been up to. She finds that Puck has recently updated his status:

'**Noah Puckerman**  
IS GETTING FUCKING WRECKED TONIGHT. WHERE YOU AT LIMA? GET IT.'

She chuckles through a bit of a scoff before commenting, 'you are such a fucking loser. see you tonight :P'

She scrolls further down, past all the people she honestly could not give a single, solitary shit about―including one particular baby cheerio who clearly spends far too much time on the internet―before she stops and her heart flutters slightly.

'**Rachel Barbra Berry**  
finally gets to see that special someone again tonight! Miss you! (heart)'

She smiles wide and types out a response, 'I can't wait to see you ;)' before hovering her finger over the enter button. Her eyes go wide as she realizes what she's about to do and she quickly deletes the comment, as if someone would be able see it on her monitor if she didn't get rid of it as fast as humanly possible. _Retard_, she shakes her head_._ She smiles again, though, as she clicks through to Rachel's profile, deciding to engage in some nice, wholesome Facebook stalking. Finding nothing of consequence on the girl's page, she starts to flip through the posted photos of her, grinning like an idiot as she does.

It's only a while later that she realizes she's been stalking the girl's page for the better part of an hour, shaking her head and chuckling in reprimand before clicking over to her own profile. She has a couple new wall posts―one from the baby cheerio she wants so badly to smack with a fucking chicken cutlet, and the other from Quinn.

'**Quinn Fabray**  
you better be fucking coming tonight.'

Santana smirks before typing out a quick comment on the post, 'oh, i will be. ALL NIGHT LONG... but it has shit all to do with you :P'

With a self-satisfied smile she logs out and closes her laptop before standing up with a stretch and a bit of a yawn. She runs a hand over her grumbling stomach and chances a glance at the clock on the nightstand, the time quickly closing in on 7, before deciding to head down to the kitchen and investigate possible dinner options.

* * *

She eats a quick dinner before popping into the shower, starting to get ready for the night. When she emerges from the stall, she wraps herself in a towel and pops her toothbrush into her mouth before heading into her room. She brushes her teeth half-assedly as she gets dressed once more.

She's halfway clothed when she hears her phone vibrate against the desk. She makes her way over, just pulling on a t-shirt, with her toothbrush still sticking out of her mouth, to pick up the device. She laughs, and nearly chokes on toothpaste, as she reads the message from Quinn.

'IT'S FRIDAY, FRIDAY, GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRIDAY.'

She grabs her towel and walks back to the washroom to spit and rinse before tapping out a response with a wide smile. 'YESTERDAY WAS THURSDAY, THURSDAY, TODAY I-IS FRIDAY, FRIDAY.' She starts to dry her hair with the towel up until the phone vibrates against the counter, and she drapes the towel over her shoulder before reaching out for the handset and reading the blonde's response.

'WE-WE-WE SO EXCITED.'

'TOMORROW IS SATURDAY, AND SUNDAY COMES AFTER... WARDS.'

'I DON'T WANT THIS WEEKEND TO END.' Santana chuckles and shakes her head before another text comes in. ':) you know, ily sometimes. You might be the only person who would text Rebecca Black lyrics with me.'

Santana chuckles, 'I will never, ever admit to it.'

She groans when Quinn's response comes in, though. 'Good thing I have textual proof, then ;P' Another message comes in shortly. 'So you're coming tonight, right?'

Santana lightly scoffs. 'I responded to you on fb, but yeah, of course.'

'Just checking. I know manhands isn't really the partying type...'

The Latina glares at her handset. 'Q, I'm gonna put that fucking hole in your face sooner than later if you don't quit with the names.'

'Touchy touchy' comes the reply.

'Whatever, maternity wear :P'

':P so is she coming tonight?'

Santana sighs. 'Yeah,' she pauses her typing to go back to her home screen and check the time, which is edging on 8. 'She's gonna come over here soonish and then we're gonna walk over together.'

'What time?'

The Latina smirks. 'What, are you stalking me now?' And she full on laughs when Quinn's response comes in.

'I take back the love, you're really just fucking annoying.' Another message comes almost immediately. 'I want to know so I can go over at the same time, asshole.'

Santana taps her nail against the side of the handset, considering the question. 'I don't know, 9 probably?'

'Ok. I'll see you at 9:30 then.'

Santana chuckles; despite their years of non-friendship, it seems that the blonde still knows her quite well. She just puts the phone back down on the counter before firing up her blow dryer.

* * *

By the time she gets her hair just the way she wants it―dried, straightened and headbanded―it's already 8:30, and the doorbell rings. _Right on time_, the Latina chuckles as she checks the time on her phone. She bounds down the stairs and starts to slide the deadlock open before she looks down her body and realizes, with a bit of embarrassment, that she's still dressed in the ratty t-shirt and boxer briefs that she had thrown on post-shower.

She opens the door with a sheepish smile to see Rachel on the other side, as expected, and the girl shoots a discriminating look over her.

The diva raises a finger. "As cute as you look right now, I don't think that that's appropriate attire for a party..." she trails off, pointing a wary finger at the Latina.

Santana rolls her eyes, stepping back and gesturing into the house with her free arm. "Come in, won't you?" she pushes out through gritted teeth.

The diva passes with a smirk and slides off her jacket before handing it to the Latina, who takes it but stands still, awestruck for a moment, staring over the diva's outfit. A tight fitted black top with white lace detailing―very closely resembling the corset from a certain extra memorable dream she had had recently―and tight as sin black jeans along with stiletto ankle boots. "Shit," she sighs out under her breath, her heart doing that annoying backflipping thing again. She can tell that the diva is growing uncomfortable with her continued ogling, though, when her overly large brown eyes start to dart around the hallway nervously.

"So..." Rachel draws out before clearing her throat slightly. "We're gonna be late, aren't we..." she ventures flatly with a raised eyebrow, looking over the Latina's outfit once more.

Santana just tosses the jacket onto the bench before reaching a hand out to grab one of the diva's belt loops and pull her in for a crushing kiss, immediately wrapping her hands around the girl's waist and letting them take residence on her ass.

Rachel is slightly surprised by the kiss, but returns it all the same as she wraps her arms around the Latina's neck.

Santana pulls back, her breath slightly ragged, and drops her head to rest on the diva's. "I think that might be the hottest outfit in the history of ever," she breathes out, drawing a staggered chuckle from the diva.

Rachel quickly grows playful, though, and raises an eyebrow before speaking huskily. "You should see what I have on underneath..." she trails off seductively.

Santana feels her eyes immediately darken and her mouth run slightly dry as she looks down the diva's body, wondering what could possibly even _fit_ under those garments. She lifts her head and shakes it pronouncedly to bring herself back to reality. "Ok," she pauses, swallowing a pronounced lump in her throat as she still slightly struggles to form words. "I still need to get ready," she says lamely.

Rachel nods with a bit of a smug smile and the Latina leads her up the stairs to her room. Once they enter, the diva heads for the bed and takes a seat on its edge, leaning her weight back onto her hands. "So..." she starts nonchalantly. "I was thinking that I might stay over here tonight... if you'll have me, that is," she finishes with a smirk.

Santana turns from the dresser with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "How the hell did you manage that?" she questions in slight disbelief, knowing there's no way in hell Kevin and David would have given the diva permission to stay over.

The diva's smirk doesn't drop. "Well, while I don't _enjoy_ lying to my dads―judging by this, my one and only experience with it―I told them I was having a sleepover with Kurt and Mercedes."

Santana's brow furrows completely, heavy confusion washing over her. "Are you even friends with them?"

Rachel shrugs. "Somewhat. Or at least I talk about them enough that my dads _believe_ I am..." she trails off with a mischievous smile.

The Latina chuckles and slightly shakes her head. "You know, I'm starting to think I'm a bad influence on you..." she trails off thoughtfully before turning back to the dresser to grab her outfit.

The diva just rolls her eyes from her seat on the bed. "Yes. Lord knows, if I keep hanging out with you I might end up engaging in completely self-harming activities... like passing a science class or participating in athletics," she deadpans, drawing a roll of the eyes from the Latina. "And, besides, it's not a _complete_ lie... after all, I _will_ be seeing Kurt and Mercedes tonight..."

Santana just shakes her head again with a smile as she turns around to show the diva her selected attire. "Good enough?" she asks with an eyebrow raised, holding a top in one hand and a pair of jeans in the other.

The diva stands and walks over to more closely examine the garments. She runs her hand along the length of the striped tank top the Latina is holding in her left hand before lifting her hand back up and placing it on top of Santana's, drawing the cheerleader's eyes up to her own. "You could wear whatever you want, even what you're already wearing... _or_ nothing at all..." she smirks. "And I'd still be good."

Santana feels a goofy grin spread across her face, but it's only there temporarily as the diva abruptly leans in to kiss her. She feels Rachel's tongue swipe across her bottom lip and she drops the clothes to the floor so that she can reach out and touch the girl as they begin their dance. She meets the diva's tongue with her own and starts to run her hands up and down the girl's sides before pulling back suddenly and raising an eyebrow. "So... are we planning to go to this party at all? Because at this rate..." she smirks.

Rachel chuckles and rolls her eyes. "Ok, I'll just sit down and be bored while you take forever."

Santana's jaw drops and her eyes widen. "Um, well, you're currently contributing to the 'taking forever'."

Rachel just smirks before pulling out of the Latina's grasp and heading back to sit on the edge of the bed once more, definitely adding a bit more sway to her hips than is absolutely necessary. She crosses her legs and folds her hands neatly in her lap. "See? Not bothering you," she says with an airy playfulness.

The Latina just shakes her head slowly, _What the fuck have I gotten myself into_, before picking up her clothes and leaving the room to change.

* * *

After some completely unnecessary―or completely _necessary_, if you ask Santana― kissing and touching, the pair are finally ready to leave at about 9:15. They exit the house and link arms as they make the short walk over to the Puckerman house.

The exterior is dark, as expected, and Santana chauffeurs the diva up the steps before stepping forward to open the door. Once again, the pounding bass of the music hits her as she steps in, and she smiles―a party just feels so long overdue after the past week. She can see Puck down the hall in the kitchen, and it's not long before he notices the pair removing their jackets and walks over with a wide smile.

"Ladies!" he greets excitedly as he positions himself between the girls, throwing an arm over each of their shoulders.

"Pucky," Santana voices with a bit of a smirk, drawing a playful scoff from the boy, as she reaches to take Rachel's jacket into her arms as well.

"Hello, Noah," the diva greets cordially with a kind smile.

"Shall we?" he says brightly, chancing a quick glance at each of the girls under his arms before starting to guide them towards the kitchen.

They enter the bright, crowded room, and Puck immediately leads them towards the counter, where an open bottle of tequila is waiting. As the boy relinquishes his hold to fill three shot glasses, Santana notices Quinn and Brittany chatting in the corner and they both look over with smiles and waves. She waves back with a matching smile, and can see Rachel hesitate before slightly waving back.

Puck turns back towards the brunettes, holding out two of the small glasses with a smile, "Shots."

The girls each take their respective glass before the boy grabs his own from the counter. He purses his lips and looks up in thought for a moment before grinning. "Here's to another night of drinking and debauchery," he says brightly before quieting down slightly. "And to the hottest threesome in the history of the world later tonight," he winks cockily.

Both girls roll their eyes but clink their glasses with the boy anyway before shooting the drinks back. Rachel coughs heavily as the burning liquid makes its way down her throat, and Santana chuckles but reaches a hand to run it along the diva's back as the girl tries to regain some semblance of composure.

"Berry, you're a fucking champ," the boy remarks through his own chuckle, reaching out to take the girls' coats from Santana. She smiles up at him in thanks and he nods before disappearing from the room.

Rachel stands back upright with slightly watery eyes and distinct redness across her face. "Wow. That was stronger than last time," she strains out as she raises a hand to her chest and swallows hard, obviously still feeling it in her throat.

Santana chuckles, "Well, last time you had Jäger. This time you had the real shit." She trails her hand down the diva's back, chancing a glance around to see if anyone's watching before delivering a light squeeze to the girl's ass. Rachel squeaks softly and Santana smiles before moving to the fridge to grab beers for herself and the diva. She stands upright with the two bottles but pauses before closing the door, looking up with a curious eyebrow. "You ok with beer or do you want mixed drinks?"

Rachel just nods, "Beer is just fine."

Santana smiles as she closes the fridge and walks back to the diva to hand her a bottle. She takes a swig from her own bottle before gesturing her head towards the two blondes in the corner. "So, shall we?" she asks curiously, partially concerned about the diva's continued wariness around the fair-haired girls. Rachel looks over briefly and breathes out a heavy sigh before nodding in acquiescence. Santana smiles reassuringly in return before starting towards the end of the room, Rachel following closely behind.

When they arrive, Santana nods her head slightly in greeting, "Hey."

"Hey," Brittany greets softly.

"Hey guys," Quinn smiles.

"Hi," the diva breathes out shyly, her eyes fixed on the patio door as she takes a nervous swig of her beer.

"So, you got here early...?" Santana directs towards Quinn with a raised eyebrow, suddenly wondering why the girl even asked for a time.

The blonde shrugs. "Well, you take for fucking ever, so..." she trails off with a smirk.

The Latina chuckles and takes a swig of her beer before gesturing a thumb at the diva standing next to her. "Well, you can blame _her_ for part of that."

Rachel looks up in complete embarrassment and Quinn's face washes over in slight disgust as Brittany just laughs.

The blonde cheerio takes a look over the diva's outfit before speaking pointedly at her with a soft smile. "You look nice," she observes softly.

Any other day of life, Santana would've known that it was meant to be an insult―despite the fact it probably would have flown right over the diva's head―but, given what Rachel is wearing and the bit of sincerity lacing Brittany's voice, Santana actually finds a smile spreading across her face. Rachel Berry, _her girlfriend_, doesn't just look 'nice', she looks fucking smoking, and other people see it, too.

The diva slightly blushes. "Thank you, Brittany. That's very kind of you to say."

A bit of an awkward silence spreads over the group before an all-too-familiar song comes over the stereo―'Me Against the Music' by Britney Spears and Madonna. Santana smiles wide and Brittany's expression mirrors her own as they point at each other before laughing, drawing a look of confusion from the two others.

Quinn just arches an eyebrow as she stares between the two. "So... should we go dance, then?" she ventures.

Brittany nods immediately, but Santana looks over to Rachel first, who also nods, before turning back towards the ex-cheerio. "Let's fucking do the thing."

* * *

The foursome tear up the makeshift dance floor for quite some time before settling into the sitting room along with some of the other gleeks, someone having brought up the―ridiculous, by Santana's judgment―idea of playing 'truth or dare'. Seated around the coffee table are Quinn, Brittany, and Puck on the couch; Finn on the far side of the table; Matt and Mike on the ground opposite the couch; as well as Santana and Rachel who are seated on a loveseat they've pulled over from the side of the room, completing the circle. The game progresses through the typical first few rounds of everyone picking 'truth' before more drinks happen and people start to grow bolder.

Santana, of course, is the one who feels the need to set the tone for the rest of the game, so when Quinn turns towards her with the simple question of 'truth or dare', she lets a smug smile set across her features. _Let's get this fucking show on the road._

"Dare," she says flatly, almost challengingly.

The blonde's eyes widen slightly for a moment, apparently having not expected the response, before she grows pensive. She looks up in thought for a few moments before gazing back at the Latina with a grin. "I dare you to swap clothes with Rachel."

Santana just scoffs and rolls her eyes pronouncedly, the dare being painfully tame by her standards. "Ok, grandma," she teases before standing and extending her hand to pull the diva up.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Puck interjects. "Where do you think _you're_ going?"

The Latina drops her brow. "I am _not_ getting undressed in front of your little horndog self. It's a little early in the night for a lower body salute," she smirks. "So, we'll be back," she adds simply before turning around and starting to walk, pulling Rachel along behind her.

"No fucking in my house unless I'm there!" the boy shouts after the pair, and Santana just flips the bird back in his general direction as she keeps moving forward.

She leads Rachel to the bathroom, guiding the girl in before following and softly clicking the door shut behind her. The room is quite small, and when she turns around to face the diva, they're nearly face-to-face. "Hey," she greets softly, leaning her head down to place soft, languid kisses along the diva's neck as her hands start to play with the sides of her top. "I _really_ like this shirt on you..." she breathes out, toying with the smooth skin of the diva's hips.

"Oh yeah?" Rachel squeaks out, her eyes closed and her breath slightly hitching.

"Yeah," the Latina nearly groans before pulling her head back and searching out the diva's eyes, a curious eyebrow arched. "Can I talk you out of it?" she smirks as she looks down the girl's body and starts to tug up the sides of the fabric.

Rachel―growing to love their little back and forth and, little by little, learning to give as good as she gets―lightly chuckles and shakes her head before putting on a smirk of her own. "And you're finally getting into my pants, too."

Santana looks up with slightly wider eyes and a bit of a slack jaw. "Oh really?" she voices in disbelief before simply leaning in to kiss the diva tenderly. "If I told you I loved your body, would you hold it against me?" the Latina smirks, unable to resist, as she reaches down to grab the diva's belt loops and pull the girl's body flush against her own.

Rachel just rolls her eyes before pulling out of the Latina's grasp, the cheerleader's slightly pout drawing a laugh from the diva. She turns back towards the mirror and starts to strip. "_If_ you play your cards right..." she grins as she starts to remove her shirt. "Keep your hands to yourself for now, though," she chides seriously, her shirt halfway up her torso, pointing a finger at the Latina in the mirror.

Santana groans before pulling off her own top. "Well, I'll say one thing, I'm just really glad that you didn't wear anything with animals on it," she winks as she puts her tank down on the counter.

The diva's face washes over in a bit of a blush as she starts to undo her jeans. "Well, I wouldn't say _that_, necessarily," she replies as she turns her back towards the Latina and starts to tug her jeans down.

Santana turns her head to see Rachel's boy-cut underwear, complete with a puppy screen-printed on the ass. She stills her hands on the waistband of her own jeans, finding herself staring at (or, well, maybe through) the design for an inordinately long amount of time, unconsciously licking her lips as she does. Her attention is only drawn away when a pair of jeans makes impact with her chest, causing her to release a light, "Oof."

Rachel spins around with her arms crossed in front of her body, cutting the Latina with an unimpressed gaze. "This time people _are_ literally waiting for us, so get undressed. Now."

Santana's mouth splits into a bit of a smile before she takes a half-step forward, reaching her hands out towards the diva once more. "I think I _like_ you being all demanding," she smirks.

Rachel shrugs slightly as she swats the Latina's hands away from her midsection. "Well it's not all that―Santana, stop it!" she giggles as the Latina lightly pokes and tickles at her sides and she continues to try to swat the cheerleader's hands away.

After a few minutes of playful struggle, Santana just steps back with a wide smile. "Ok, let's get this over with, then."

It's only a couple minutes more before the pair emerge from the washroom, surprised to find a bit of a line outside. Santana just smiles in satisfaction while Rachel blushes in slight embarrassment.

They only make it about ten steps before Santana abruptly stops walking and looks down at the black jeans she is now wearing, which fall a good three inches short of her shoes. "I look like I'm ready for the fucking flood," she observes flatly.

Rachel chuckles from behind her. "Well, we could also change shoes if you'd like..?"

Santana turns and chances a glance down at the diva's ankle boots―which would be an entirely viable option if they weren't about three sizes too small. She scoffs lightly, "Yeah, I'm not really into foot-binding." Rachel just rolls her eyes and Santana winks before grabbing the diva's hand to lead her back towards the sitting room.

When they re-enter the room, the group visibly chuckles at Santana's new outfit―Rachel's top being slightly too short for the Latina's torso, revealing quite a bit more stomach than she had anticipated, in addition to the too-short jeans. On the other hand, Santana's clothes, though slightly too long, actually fit the diva quite well.

As for the rest of the group, nothing is happening besides idle chatter and nothing seems to have changed, really, aside from the fact that Mike Chang is now without a shirt. Santana arches an eyebrow at the sight, relatively sure that Brittany is to thank for that one.

"So, did we miss anything?" she asks curiously as she settles back onto the loveseat, the diva dropping down next to her.

Puck groans and points with his beer as he explains. "We're gonna have to stare at Wonderboy's freakishly hairless chest over there for the rest of the game. Also, Brittany has a piercing in the no-go zone," Santana nods absently, being more than familiar with the steel ring in question. "And Matt's middle name is Ariel." Both Rachel and Santana laugh at the last one.

At the same time, Finn speaks, almost under his breath but still loud enough for everyone to hear. "You missed a lot of dead time because you took for fucking ever," he groans.

Santana just rolls her eyes, not even considering the boy worth the effort right now, and Quinn absolutely glares at him before turning to the loveseat. "It's your turn, S."

She returns the blonde's gaze with a bit of a smirk. "Ok Q, truth or dare?"

"Truth," the ex-cheerio replies simply.

Santana just blinks before furrowing her brow, looking at the girl with an unimpressed glare. "That's the fourth time in a row... man the fuck up, Fabray."

Quinn groans, "Fine. Dare, then."

Santana smirks heavily, looking at the diva next to her with a bit of an apologetic stare―feeling slightly bad about what she's about to do―before looking back to the blonde. "I dare you to take a body shot off of Rachel."

Quinn's face drops entirely, and she chances a quick glance over at the terrified diva before absolutely glaring at the Latina. The guys are cheering and Brittany is laughing, and Santana laughs as well.

"I fucking hate you," Quinn deadpans.

Santana scoffs. "You love me. I have 'textual proof'," she winks cockily.

Puck suddenly grows serious, holding his hands up to halt everyone's motions. "Wait, can we _please_ hold off on this until I find a camera?" he requests as he quickly scurries to his feet and out of the room.

Rachel has not moved an inch, and Santana lightly pushes her shoulder. "You should probably get this done while horndog is gone," she suggests simply, speaking pointedly at the diva before looking up at Quinn to echo the sentiment. Both girls nod and Santana turns towards the boys, "Matty, can you go get the tequila and stuff?"

The boy nods and pops up to his feet before bounding out of the room and into the kitchen.

Rachel looks entirely confused and Santana rolls her eyes slightly with a chuckle before standing and pulling the diva up with her. She points to the coffee table, "Just sit on the edge of the table and lean back onto your elbows."

Rachel looks at the coffee table for a pensive moment before looking back up at the Latina unsurely. "Trust me?" Santana asks softly, and it seems to work as the diva reluctantly settles onto the table as instructed. She chances a glance over at Quinn, who looks ghostly pale, and it makes her chuckle aloud.

Matt quickly reappears with the bottle of tequila, a salt shaker, and a few lemon wedges, handing them off to the Latina before moving to grab a prime seat for the show.

Santana gets down onto one knee next to the table and hikes her own shirt up the diva's torso slightly. Rachel looks down her body with a questioning eyebrow and the Latina just nods her head slightly and mouths, 'Trust me,' once more with kind eyes.

She leans down to lick the skin just above the diva's belly button, smiling when she feels the muscles contract and slightly tremble beneath the light touch, before shaking salt onto the moist spot. She grabs one of the lemon wedges and raises it to her own mouth. "So, you're gonna hold this between your teeth, like this―" she shows the girl, who nods. She holds the citrus wedge up to the diva's lips, and the girl bites down as instructed.

Santana just grabs the bottle of liquor before looking pointedly at Quinn. "Ok, Q, your go," she says with a bit of a smug smile.

Her voice seems to snap the blonde out of her daze and Quinn arches an eyebrow as she looks at the set-up in front of her. "Where's the shot?" she asks simply, looking up at the Latina in confusion.

Santana's smile spreads. "Oh no," she shakes her head slightly with a chuckle. "You're gonna be doing a _proper_ body shot."

Quinn's expression doesn't change, the girl looking nothing if not entirely confused.

"You take the salt," the Latina explains, pointing at Rachel's torso. "I pour the tequila down her chest," she gestures her hand from the diva's throat downwards, "And you take it." She raises her hand up to point at the diva's mouth. "And then you take the lemon," she shrugs, it being a relatively simple process in her head.

Quinn's eyes widen and her jaw clenches. "I'm going to fucking murder you in your sleep, do you know that?"

Santana just chuckles before snapping her fingers a few times. "Come on, Tubby, better get it done now or this shit's gonna be on Youtube by the end of the night..."

The blonde groans heavily and runs a hand over her face before dropping to her knees on the floor. She hesitantly reaches a hand out to brace her weight on the table. "Ok, let's get this fucking over with," she growls.

Santana just smirks. "Ok... _go_!"

Quinn semi-hesitantly leans down to lick the salt from the diva's abs, and, as she does, Santana readies her pour, letting the liquid gold trail down Rachel's chest as the blonde laps it up as best as she can. The blonde grimaces―slightly at the taste of the tequila and slightly at the action she's performing―before moving up to the diva's mouth and quickly swiping the lemon wedge, trying to avoid lip contact as best as she can. Santana's eyes slightly glaze over, the scene playing out in front of her turning her on a _lot_ more than it probably should...

Despite Quinn's speed, as her mouth is hovering over the diva's a bright flash washes over the room, and when she sits back on her heels, she sees Puck standing on the opposite side of the table, camera in hand, grinning like a fool. "Best birthday present ever," he smirks.

Quinn groans as she pulls the spent wedge from her mouth. "It's not even your fucking birthday! And if I _ever_ see that picture in the public arena," she points a threatening finger at the boy, her voice not wavering. "I'm adding you to the fucking kill list."

Puck just laughs along with the rest of the group, save for Quinn and Rachel. Santana looks down at the diva still on display in front of her to see that there is still some residual tequila resting between her clavicles. She doesn't even think about what she's doing before she leans in to assist in the clean-up effort, earning a series of whistles and another flash which she basically ignores, choosing instead to focus on the light moan she can feel move through the diva's throat.

She smiles at the diva, but it drops when she looks over at the cameraman. "Puck, same thing Q said. I see it anywhere, _ever_, and your fucking balls are going on my mantle."

The boy raises his hands in innocence. "Don't even worry, these are going in the _personal_ collection," he smirks, earning a collective look of disgust from everyone in the room.

Santana just rolls her eyes before helping Rachel off of the table and back to the loveseat as everyone else moves back to their original positions as well.

Rachel wipes at her chest and abdomen with a flat hand for a moment before looking up at the Latina, a bit of a blush still across her cheeks. "So... my turn, then?"

Santana just nods and the diva leans back in thought for a moment.

"Make it a fucking good one," Quinn groans, shooting another set of murderous glares at both the Latina and Puck.

The diva lightly smiles before turning towards the couch. "Noah, truth or dare?"

The boy huffs a laugh. "Dare, obviously," he answers in a smug tone.

Rachel smirks heavily as she speaks. "I dare you to go over there―" she points into the living room, to the makeshift dance floor. "And dance an entire song with Kurt."

Puck's face drops and everyone else starts laughing hysterically, looking over to see Kurt and Mercedes tearing up the dance floor at the moment.

Santana looks at the diva in complete amazement. "Fucking yes!" she remarks with a broad smile. She looks back to Puck, waving a finger in the air before pointing at him in seriousness. "And we're not talking middle school arm's-length bullshit either; I want to see some full-on crotch rocking."

The boy's brow drops. "No fucking way."

"_Yes_ fucking way," Quinn chimes in.

"Dare's been called, dude," Matt says simply with a bit of a shrug, obviously still holding back laughter. "You can't back out now."

Puck groans and drains the half-beer in his hand before slamming it pronouncedly onto the table, reluctantly rising to his feet, and heading over to the adjoining room as the entire group watches after him. He hesitantly approaches the small boy from behind and moves close to dance up on him.

Santana pops up from her seat and heads to the open threshold between the two rooms, crossing her arms and looking over at Puck with an unimpressed glare. When the boy notices, he furrows his brow and shoots the girl a questioning shrug. The Latina points down at her own crotch before raising her index finger and spinning it in indication―letting the boy know she was serious about full frontal contact.

Puck closes his eyes for a moment and runs a hand over his face in frustration before reaching down to spin Kurt in his arms so that they are face-to-face. The boys continue to dance and Santana smirks before taking her cell phone out of her pocket and quickly snapping a picture of the scene.

"Oh my god, that is _too_ perfect," Rachel's voice comes from over her shoulder.

She chuckles lightly. "I know, right? And this bad boy's going to Facebook _right now_, too," she smirks as she taps over to upload the picture.

Once it's posted, Santana just spins and heads back towards the group, wearing a wide smile, the diva following close behind. The group is still watching the dancing amusedly, but as she settles back into her seat, Santana tosses her phone to Quinn with a bit of a nod. "Say hello to FB's newest addition."

Quinn and Brittany lean together to look at the picture and start laughing hysterically as they read the caption: 'True love forever (heart)'. They pass the phone around the table, spreading the laughter, before the song ends and Puck quickly reappears.

"Well, if nothing else comes out of tonight, at least we know Pucky's finally found love," Santana smirks, never able to resist an opportunity to rib the boy.

He groans as he falls back onto the couch. "Don't be so fucking smug, you're totally gonna pay for that shit," the boy points a threatening finger in her direction.

"And maybe sooner than you think," Quinn footnotes with a grin. "So, S, truth or dare?" she raises an eyebrow and presses her lips into a thin line, instituting a nonverbal challenge. Though Santana knows the blonde is currently hell-bent on revenge, she's never been one to turn down a challenge―and if the blonde's previous dare was any indication, she doesn't have the stones to really get a good one in, anyway.

Santana smiles wide in return. "Dare," she returns the challenge.

Quinn's smile spreads the width of her face and something in her eyes flickers, and Santana immediately knows that this was the wrong choice. "Ok," the blonde shrugs innocently, looking down at her lap. "In that case..." she pauses, lifting her eyes to meet the Latina's own. "I dare you to kiss Finn... _with_ tongue."

Santana's eyes reflexively shoot slightly down, not really focusing on anything, as she raises a hand to her sternum and she slightly gags. She looks over to Rachel, who actually looks excited at the prospect, before looking back at the blonde―who is wearing an absolute shit-eating grin.

'I'm going to kill you,' the Latina mouths, earning an outward laugh from Quinn. She turns to chance a look over at the ogre across the table from her, who looks just as unenthused about the idea as she does. "Fine," she grinds out before standing and walking over to the boy. She looks down at Finn, who makes no movements towards standing, and rolls her eyes before dropping down to her knees on the ground.

She's inches away from Finn, and it's about the last place in the world she wants to be right now. She reaches a hesitant hand out to grab the boy's neck before closing her eyes and moving in. _Maybe if I don't look at his big, dumbshit face it won't be as bad._ Her lips meet Finn's dry, chafed lips―which, for the record, feel like sandpaper against her own―briefly before she works her tongue into the equation. When their tongues meet, Santana is entirely convinced she's going to vomit right into the boy's mouth. His tongue is too big, too rough, and the taste is just mortifying. Santana suddenly starts to wonder whether the boy has ever heard of oral hygiene. She can hear hooting and hollering in the background, but it's muted as she makes a conscious attempt to mute _all_ of her senses.

She keeps the kiss as brief as she can while sticking to Quinn's parameters, counting out a full five 'Mississippi's in her head before pulling away and quickly running the back of her hand along her lips, trying to wipe as much of the boy off as she can. She stands abruptly and heads back to the loveseat, dropping her weight down with a thud before grabbing Rachel by the shirt and pulling the girl practically into her body for a passionate kiss. She can hear at least Puck vocally catcalling at them, but she ignores it, rather intent on tasting Rachel―the sweetness that is inherently hers mixed with the bitterness of the beer on her breath―and she's not sure if she's ever tasted anything better.

When she finally pulls away, fully convinced her lungs are going to collapse from the lack of oxygen filling them, an equally breathless Rachel just tilts her head to the side with a questioning expression.

Santana just chuckles, struggling slightly to calm her breath enough to speak a coherent sentence. "Just needed to wash the taste out," she smiles, and the diva cracks a wide smile with a slight blush that makes her heart flutter.

The game takes a break so that everyone can refresh their drinks, and this endeavour ends up being the silver bullet that finally took truth or dare down. Upon entering the kitchen, the football guys get called into a game of beer pong, and the girls end up drifting to the dance floor where they join the already heavy crowd in dancing to the pounding beats coming from the stereo.

Rachel and Santana don't dance close, their relationship still not being full public knowledge, rather they dance in a loose group with Quinn, Brittany, Mercedes and Kurt. They only dance for about 15 minutes before Quinn leans into Santana's ear, and they whisper conspiratorially back and forth for a few minutes before breaking out into laughter.

"Let's fucking do it!" Santana says excitedly and Quinn nods enthusiastically before the pair make their way over to the stereo system.

Santana grabs her phone from her pocket and readies the right song before hooking it up to the iPod dock and pressing play. A horrible beat starts emanating from the stereo, soon followed by even worse, highly electronic lyrics. Groans happen around the room and the girls just start to laugh again as they dance exaggeratedly badly to match the song.

'7am, waking up in the morning  
Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs  
Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal  
Seein' everything, the time is going―'

Puck quickly rushes out from the kitchen with a horrified expression. "Get that shit _off_ of my stereo, right now!" he yells as he advances towards the source and towards the two girls who are doubled over in laughter.

Quinn grabs the phone and holds it out of the boy's reach, the length of the cord impeding her stretch slightly. "This from the guy who thinks Justin Bieber is some sort of cultural cornerstone."

Santana just starts to laugh even harder. "Oh my god," she struggles out.

Quinn turns towards her with a smirk, struggling to speak through her own laughter. "Did I tell you about how he tried to woo me back with the highly romantic lyrics of the Biebtard?"

Puck groans and Santana laughs impossibly harder, half convinced she's going to pee her pants, her beer wielding hand resting on her aching abs and her free hand wiping tears from her eyes. "Such a fucking Don Juan," she laughs out, earning a matching laugh from the blonde.

"Turn it off!" the boy reiterates firmly as he reaches out to try to grab the phone from Quinn's hand.

The blonde spins and retreats behind the Latina, who stands tall and firm, crossing her arms in front of her body. "We've listened to your poppy bullshit all night, you can stand three minutes of even worse," she smirks, and as the chorus starts, both she and Quinn start to sing and dance horribly along.

"It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday!  
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend!  
Friday, Friday, gettin' down on Friday!  
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend!"

Santana smirks and turns towards the blonde, "Partyin', partyin!"

"Yeah!" the blonde chimes in.

"Partyin', partyin'!"

"Yeah!"

They both struggle to sing through laughter at, "Fun, fun, fun, fun!"

Quinn sighs with her hand on her abs, finally silencing the horrible song and switching back to the stereo before looking back up at Santana with a smile. "Oh man, that was fucking amazing," she wheezes out.

The Latina nods happily. "So fucking good," she nearly coughs out, reaching up to wipe another tear before unhooking her phone from the cord.

Puck just shakes his head as he stares between the two girls. "You two are fucking insane," he asserts simply before heading back to the kitchen.

* * *

The group dances, chats, and laughs interchangeably for about an hour before Santana notices that Finn has lurked into the room and is standing in a corner by himself, taking occasional swigs out of a mickey of vodka. She quirks an eyebrow―it being an odd scene by _anyone's_ standards, not just her own―but decides to ignore him and stay focused on the good time she's currently having, one that's been long overdue.

She soon notices that Rachel is dancing around with an empty bottle and steps forward across their makeshift circle, resting a hand on her forearm before leaning into her ear. "Another drink?" she asks simply before pulling away with a raised eyebrow. The diva nods with a wide smile and the Latina nods in return, letting her hand run down the diva's arm to take the empty bottle before heading off to the kitchen.

As soon as she enters the kitchen, a well-lubricated Puck raises his arms in the air. "San!" he belts out. "Flip cup. Now. Finny fucking pussed out and Matty is down for the count," he explains, gesturing an arm to the corner of the room where the boy in question is slumped over a chair showing few signs of life beyond a dull snore. "We need an anchor."

The Latina smirks, placing the empties down on the counter before heading over to the table. She takes a spot next to Puck and Mike, who both fist-bump with her, looking across the table to see Azimio, some other football guy (whose name she couldn't care less about, but, for sake of mental labelling she decides to call him 'jock #2'), and Karofsky.

The large fair-skinned boy huffs a laugh with a smug smile. "Really, Puckerman? You think some _little girl_ is gonna help you win?" he stares across the table at the Latina with a shake of his head, looking positively unimpressed.

Puck goes slightly agape and raises a hand to his mouth. "Oh, you've gone and done it now..." he trails off with a laugh.

Santana's brow drops and she steels her expression. "Look here, sausagefest, I'm about to hand your ass to you, and when I do, you'll have the supreme pleasure of knowing that it was 'some little girl' who made you look like an absolute fucking fairy."

"Ohhh!" the sound is echoed by all the boys around the table apart from Karofsky, who just rolls his eyes.

"You fucking wish, cheer bitch. You can go crying back to your little homo group when I show you how a _man_ does it."

Santana scoffs before staring at the boy menacingly. "Yeah, ok ladyboy, let's fucking do the thing so you can get back to your right hand."

Both Mike and Puck stifle a laugh before the mohawked boy heads to the fridge to grab a few beers. He pours the appropriate amount of beer into each cup before looking around the table with a raised eyebrow. "Alright, everyone ready?" Nods happen and the boy smiles. "Count it in, Chang."

Mike looks at the two starters. "Alright... 1, 2, 3, DRINK!"

Both Puck and Azimio grab their cups from the table with blinding speed, chugging their beverages at about the same speed and both managing to balance their cups on the first flip. Mike and jock #2 pick up immediately, but the boy across the table finishes faster, flipping his cup over successfully just as Mike finishes his beer. Karofsky starts to drink, now having a head start, before Mike finally gets the cup to balance. Santana swipes the beer up as quickly as she can and opens her throat to quickly pour the liquid down, almost finishing in tandem with the ignorant boy in front of her. Karofsky does finish first, though, and gets his first flip in, but it fails, the cup bouncing across the table. Santana sets her cup carefully on the edge of the table and delivers one slow, deliberate flip, landing the cup upright without consequence.

Cheers and high fives happen between Santana, Puck and Mike before Santana turns towards Karofsky, who has a hand on his forehead.

"How was that for _you_, meatgrinder?" she smirks.

The large boy smirks in return, raising his arms up in innocence. "Well, not my fault. I wasn't told that we had a fucking _dyke_ playing."

Santana's expression drops, _This bitch is fucking dead_. She nearly lunges across the table, but Mike catches her around the waist.

"You watch your fucking mouth or you take that ignorant bullshit out of my house." Puck says firmly, his voice not wavering, as Santana just glares at the big dumb ape.

He rolls his eyes, "Whatever."

"Yeah," Azimio chimes in. "It's getting a little too rainbow-coloured in here anyway. S'pose we shouldn't expect any less from 'Team Homo Club'," he laughs out, but he only has enough time to high-five with jock #2 before Puck is on the other side of the table, spinning him around before delivering a punch square to his cheek.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out." He directs at the three jocks, Azimio grasping at his face as the other two look on in surprise.

He literally follows the boys to the door to make sure they leave before returning to the kitchen, where Mike and Santana are still slightly reeling over the scene that just played out.

"Fucking assholes," Mike shakes his head in slight disappointment.

"Right?" Puck agrees with a raised eyebrow.

Santana doesn't respond, still seemingly stuck in her own mind, and Puck moves over to throw an arm around her shoulders. "Way to fucking win it for us," he smiles down at the girl, lifting his fist up for the girl to pound.

Santana chuckles and rolls her eyes, but does raise her fist to meet Puck's.

"Ok," he squeezes the Latina's shoulder before relinquishing his hold. "Time for a victory shot!" he says cheerily, earning a smile and nod from both Mike and Santana.

The three share a shot before Santana grabs the beers for herself and Rachel, heading out into the living room with a smile, but also with the burn of residual rage running through her veins. As soon as she enters the room, the first thing she sees is Finn with a firm hold around Rachel's upper arm. Her brow drops again as the rage rises once more, and she considers dropping the bottles completely when she sees the boy firmly tug the diva's arm, Rachel not looking like she wants _any_ of what's happening.

She quickly approaches, immediately hearing how drunk the boy is in his slurring voice. "Rachel," he draws out, extending the vowel sounds entirely too long. "I just want to talk to you!" he half argues and half pleads. As Santana watches this happen, she doesn't like the way it's playing out. Not at all.

She steps forward with a hand on her hip, her other hand supporting the two bottles of beer, and stares warningly into the boy's eyes. "Take it easy, Hudson, she's not a fucking piece of meat."

The boy scoffs and rolls his eyes, tugging on the diva's arm with greater urgency. "Let's go, ok? I want to talk alone."

Rachel shakes her head and tugs her arm out of Finn's grasp. "Anything you need to say to me, you can say here," she says firmly, crossing her arms in front of her body defensively.

The boy looks utterly frustrated and releases a groan, but Santana doesn't wait for him to speak, instead sidling right up against Rachel's shoulder. "You heard the girl, if you need to speak, speak."

Finn shifts his gaze to Santana with a coolness that almost sends a shiver down her spine, the alcohol obviously giving him a pair where he usually has none. He speaks loudly and unapologetically. "Look, I understand that through some cosmic fucking joke that the universe is playing on me, or whatever, that you two are '_dating_' or whatever the fuck you want to call it..." he shakes his head, seemingly in confusion. "But that doesn't mean you have to shove it down everyone's throats!"

Santana's brow drops completely and she can feel her rage threatening to spill over. If nothing else, the boy has just effectively outed the pair to everyone within earshot with the volume of his voice, and, in addition, _Who the fuck does this kid think he fucking is?_ She chances a glance at Rachel to see the girl looking down with something very closely resembling shame across her features, and it's at this point that everything goes red. Rachel is feeling _bad_ about this―feeling bad about _being with her_ because of this fucking troll that has emerged from beneath his fucking bridge to stomp on and ruin everything. She knows what's coming and she makes no attempt to stop it as she absolutely explodes at the boy.

"Look, Franken_fucktard_," she says firmly, stepping in front of the diva and pushing a finger into the boy's chest. He slightly stumbles back, his equilibrium obviously functioning on a level of not, and he drops his, luckily capped, bottle of vodka to the ground. Santana doesn't falter but continues to advance, drawing a parting in the crowd. She can feel the fire running through her veins, something she has, quite honestly, been missing for so long. "You had your chance and you fucked with her heart. I didn't do that―and I don't plan to―so guess the fuck what," she challenges more so than questions.

Finn can't resist, raising his chin smugly, "What's that?"

Santana raises her bottle-holding hand so that she can use both hands to firmly push the jock back against the wall. She leans in close and speaks firmly, a finger in the boy's face. "The only fucking 'joke' here is _you_."

A darkness washes over Finn's eyes as they cut into the Latina's own, and Santana knows that look―now half convinced that this situation is about to devolve into a full-on fist fight. He tears his eyes away momentarily, and, as he does, he seems to become aware of their surroundings for the first time―the entire room now openly watching as the scene plays out. The expression in his eyes starts to shift and a smug smile spreads across Santana's face as she slightly nods, _That's right. Tuck your tail back between your legs, where it belongs._

The boy just stands upright, pulling the hem of his shirt down to straighten the fabric out. "Whatever," he mutters sadly, shooting a longing glance at Rachel before just walking away.

Santana snorts in satisfaction before turning back around to see both the gawking crowd and an overly upset diva staring down at the ground. "Go the fuck on with your business," she yells at the crowd, gesturing her arms forward in a 'get-out'-type motion.

The fire is still in her veins but she desperately tries to calm it as she approaches Rachel, knowing that she's about half responsible for the sadness that is all over the girl's face. She steps in close, placing the beers down on top of the stereo before reaching her hands out to the diva's shoulders. "Hey," she coos softly as she runs her hands up and down the girl's upper arms, trying to let her know that everything's ok.

Rachel doesn't look up and Santana sighs, just continuing the (hopefully) comforting motion. Her eyes shift suddenly, though, as she notices Quinn standing about ten feet away over the diva's shoulder trying to get her attention. The blonde makes some sort of gesture that the Latina can't really decipher before she rolls her eyes in frustration. Quinn exaggeratedly points at the pair before pointing down the hall towards Puck's bedroom. Realization washes over Santana and she nods before turning her focus back to the diva. She runs one hand down to take Rachel's hand into her own and raises her other to lift the slight girl's chin. "Let's go somewhere private, ok?" she gestures her head towards the hallway.

Rachel's eyes finally look up with a completely conflicted look playing across them, but she nods gently. Santana nods in return before grabbing the beers and leading the girl down the hallway to Puck's room.

Once in the room, Santana decides not to make the same mistake twice, this time closing and locking the door behind them. _If anyone wants their jacket, they can fucking knock_. She turns back around to see Rachel sitting on the edge of the coat-covered bed, staring down at her tiny, clasped hands. She releases a deep sigh before walking over to the bed, getting down on her knees on the ground so that their faces are nearly level.

She reaches her free hand out to brush some of the diva's hair out of her face and behind her ears before letting the hand trail down her cheek, her throat, and resting it on her collarbone. She takes a deep breath before looking up at the diva's face. "Why do you let him get to you?"

Rachel just shrugs, and it's at this juncture that Santana notices a bit of a sparkle in her eye. Tears. Her muscles tense and she feels immediate discomfort. Emotions aren't really her forte and she fucking _hates_ it when girls cry. Her instincts start to kick in. Half of her wants to get the fuck out of the room while she still can; the other half of her wants to get the fuck out of the room while she still can and proceed to kick the living shit out of a certain shit-for-brains jock.

But she stays. She has no idea why, but she stays. And instead of disgust, concern washes over her face; and instead of retracting her hand, she uses it to lift the girl's chin; and instead of getting the fuck out while she still can, she leans in to kiss the diva softly. The kiss is chaste, yet passionate. It's ostensibly nothing but a closed-mouth little peck on the lips that someone forgot to end, yet it's so, so much more. A tear slips from the diva's eye, and Santana can feel it hit her own cheek as she keeps her lips glued to Rachel's.

When she pulls slightly back, she drops her hand to rest on top of Rachel's clasped hands. The girl's eyes stay closed for a prolonged moment before they finally meet Santana's own, the same look of confliction painfully evident. The diva bites her lip, seemingly having something to say, and Santana squeezes her hands encouragingly.

Rachel sighs. "He just... I mean... I don't even know," she shakes her head in frustration, and Santana quickly realizes that perhaps she's not the only one who's brought a bit of baggage into their current relationship. Apparently Finn had done quite a number on the diva, which, of course, just makes Santana want to sack him even harder.

She releases a silent sigh before raising her hand once more, letting it rest on Rachel's cheek as she leans in to kiss her again―a shorter embrace this time. She doesn't really pull away, but instead lets her forehead rest against the diva's as she runs her thumb reassuringly across her cheek. "It's ok. Forget about him, he's not important right now, right?"

Rachel smiles politely and slightly nods against the Latina's head briefly before pulling back, looking at her uncertainly. "Are you sure you still want me to stay over tonight? I mean, I'm not sure I'd be very good company..."

Santana shakes her head in a bit of disbelief with a soft smile playing across her lips. "You're _always_ good company," she assures the girl softly, placing the bottles down on the carpet so that she can take both of the diva's hands into her own. Rachel blushes heavily and smiles wide and it makes Santana's smile spread too, though it quickly turns into a smirk. "Besides, I'm _kind of_ planning on having sex with you tonight, so... you know, you might as well be there..." she shrugs.

Rachel laughs, she really laughs, and Santana's not sure she's ever heard a sweeter sound. "Oh really?" the diva questions in a playful tone, obviously feeling better―at least in this moment, which is really all that counts to Santana right now.

She just nods before growing exceptionally smug. "Baby, I'll treat you like my homework―slam you down on my desk and do you all night."

The diva laughs in slight disbelief, raising a curious eyebrow. "All night, huh?"

Santana shrugs once more. "Well I _am_ a perfectionist," she smiles.

Rachel pulls one of her hands from the Latina's grasp and starts to trail a lazy finger from the cheerleader's throat down to her cleavage, where she lets it dip into the shirt before tugging the Latina towards her. Santana's hands immediately abandon the diva's other hand, rather moving to her thighs, as she finds herself pulled into a much less tame kiss this time around.

Their lips meet, slow, soft, and maybe even a bit tentative at first, but that all quickly changes. Rachel throws her arms around the Latina's neck and licks at her lower lip, and Santana can't help but let the girl in. Their tongues dance languidly, sensually, taking their time to get properly reacquainted after close to a week apart. Santana softly slides her hands up the diva's thighs, pausing to squeeze her hips before drifting around her back. She glides up beneath the girl's borrowed tank top, and it's only at this point she realizes they're still wearing each other's clothes.

She pulls back with an arched eyebrow, giving the diva a bit of a once-over. "So... are we gonna change back into our own clothes or what...?"

The diva smirks, "I don't know, I kind of like being in your pants."

Santana just smiles wide before leaning in to kiss the diva once more. _This is gonna be a good night_, she sighs contentedly.

* * *

The next couple hours drift by relatively tamely. Finn had taken off after his and Santana's blowout, and that in addition to Karofsky and Azimio being booted had turned the house into a relatively drama-free zone. Despite this, Santana hasn't been able to really let herself relax as such, finding herself more concerned with monitoring a certain small diva's alcohol intake. Since the 'Finncident', as Santana has decided to refer to it, Rachel's really been knocking them back. Aside from the five rounds of flip cup that the Latina has witnessed her partake in, she's counted at least five bottles of beer and three shots... this in addition to all the alcohol consumed earlier in the night.

She furrows her brow as she watches Puck and Rachel head to the fridge for a refill, the diva about to pop her sixth beer. Beyond the obvious biochemical concerns, especially for a girl of the diva's slight build, Santana's just worried about how sick the girl is going to be if she keeps going at the same rate. She makes a decision, taking a final swig from her own drink before abandoning it to cross the kitchen.

She meets Rachel just as the girl turns with her new bottle and a bright smile. Santana just runs her hands down the diva's arms, taking the bottle from her grasp and setting it down on the counter before leaning into her ear. "Dance with me," she breathes out, dropping her head to place a soft kiss on the girl's neck before pulling back and searching out her eyes.

Rachel's eyes are slightly hidden behind a haze, but the girl smiles wide and nods. The Latina nods in return and releases one of the diva's hands to lead her out to the dance floor, which has thinned out quite a bit but is still relatively crowded. The diva's eyes light up as a new song comes over the stereo, one she obviously approves of, and she tugs on Santana's hand to stop her motion before throwing her arms around the cheerleader's neck.

The Latina tries to maintain a modicum of modesty by leaving a bit of space between their bodies, but apparently that play is just not in Rachel's book. The diva runs her hands down Santana's front, lingering on her breasts for a few long moments before reaching down to her belt loops. She tugs the Latina in firmly and their bodies meet with a thump, abs meeting abs, hip bones meeting hip bones. Santana actually winces slightly at the impact, but keeps it from her face as best she can.

Rachel just leans into the cheerleader's ear. "This is better, isn't it?" she coos huskily, putting a bit more grind in her hips than Santana was expecting.

Her eyes darken slightly at the girl's tone as she matches the movement of her hips to the diva's. She stares down their conjoined bodies and her breath hitches slightly at her view of Rachel's cleavage and the tiny beads of sweat forming along the crease. She unconsciously licks her lips as she follows the smooth skin with her eyes up to Rachel's throat, which is ever-shifting as the diva moves and as she sings along with the song. She follows the line of the diva's jaw, and all she can think about is marking a path along it with her lips. She can feel her body temperature rising, and the sensation only increases when the diva seems to become even bolder.

Rachel's hands start to drift along the Latina's exposed skin, along the small of her back, back around to her stomach, massaging her abs. Just as suddenly, the diva shifts her hands again and starts to tug Santana's shirt up her torso as she leans her head in to start kissing the cheerleader's neck. Santana moans softly and her eyes automatically drift closed for a moment before she snaps to, quickly realizing that they're in public. She abruptly reaches down and takes the diva's hands into her own, and the girl pulls back to look at her with a questioning expression.

She leans into the diva's ear. "We're in public, Rach," she reminds the girl firmly.

Rachel, slightly belligerent, scoffs and waves a dismissive hand in the air. "I don't care!"

Santana looks around slightly, noticing that they've managed to draw an audience _again_. She sighs heavily before spinning the diva in her arms so that the girl's back is resting on her front, making sure she has the girl's roaming hands in her own. She leans into the diva's ear again, "Remember that whole thing about not letting everyone watch?"

Rachel spins abruptly, and the back of her head actually manages to clip the Latina's nose. She raises a hand to her nose―which is, luckily, not bleeding―before groaning. "Fuck, Rachel."

The diva rises to her toes and leans clumsily into Santana's ear. "I really want to," she says huskily before dropping back down to her feet, her expression as serious as a heart attack.

Santana's eyes go wide and she looks pointedly at Rachel in complete shock. She slowly lowers her hand, revealing her more than slightly agape mouth. _This can't be happening_. She leans her forehead onto the diva's and chances a quick glance down the girl's body, licking her lips as she takes the girl's small hands into her own once more. "Are you serious?" she questions with a raised eyebrow.

Rachel looks up with slight uncertainty, but just as quickly the uncertainty is gone, a heavy shade of black having taken over the girl's irises. She bites her lip and nods, and Santana's heart flutters like an entire swarm of moths to the flame.

_Oh my god_. She takes a slight step back and looks down at their hands to give herself both the space and clarity required to think right now. She sighs before she looks back up at the diva and when she sees those eyes she finds herself frozen again. _Oh my god._ She feels a sudden rush of nerves but has no idea where they came from, and, furthermore, she doesn't have a single, solitary idea of what to do or say at the moment.

Rachel seems to notice what's happening and she tugs on the Latina's hand, drawing the girl's eyes to her own, before licking her lips slowly and seductively.

Santana's mouth runs dry, and her body makes her decision for her. _Fuck it_. She releases one of the girl's hands and practically drags her to get their jackets and exit the house, not giving a single shit about saying goodbye to anyone.

Within moments the pair are out on the street. Rachel is swaying back and forth on the sidewalk, belting out the lyrics to 'Firework' by Katy Perry. Santana is following closer behind than is probably completely necessary, ghosting her hands around the diva's midsection, half convinced that the girl is poised to fall and crack her skull.

"Rach, shh," Santana chuckles. "You're gonna wake up the entire neighbourhood."

The diva scoffs, "It is a _privilege _to wake up to such wonderful music!"

Santana rolls her eyes and looks down at her watch. "Not so much at 4am..." she nearly mumbles.

Rachel stops walking abruptly and Santana walks into her back with a thud. The diva spins, their bodies nearly flush, and looks up at the Latina pensively.

"Rach..." the Latina whines. "We're not even a block away!" she gestures her arm towards her house, which is entirely visible from where they're standing. "Can we please just walk?"

The diva grabs Santana by the collar and pulls her in for a crushing kiss, one that is urgent and has much less pure intentions than any of their previous embraces. The Latina lets her hands drift around the girl's midsection before heading down towards her ass. Rachel's own hands lock firm around her neck, and when she comes to, she finds it almost difficult, physically, to pull away.

"Rach!" she chides firmly. "Let's get to the house first and then I'll be all up on that," she smirks.

The diva tries to lean in for another kiss and Santana reaches back to remove the girl's hands from her neck before pulling away completely, leaving Rachel looking slightly dejected. She just smiles and turns her back before dropping to one knee. "Get on," she instructs over her shoulder.

Rachel stares down at the Latina for a few moments in confusion before her eyes widen. "You're gonna give me a piggyback ride?" she voices excitedly in realization.

Santana chuckles, "Yes. Now get on." If anything, she figures if she can control their pace, they might actually get into the house at some point before dawn.

The diva obediently climbs on with a chuckle. "I never figured you for a bottom," she whispers into the Latina's ear.

Santana laughs in slight amazement as she stands, hoisting the diva up with her, loving this playful side of a typically so serious Rachel. She only makes it a few steps before her plan completely backfires, though.

Rachel starts to lick and bite at the Latina's neck from behind, and Santana finds herself growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that she can't move her hands.

She groans. "You're fucking killing me here, you know that?"

The diva lifts her head to lean into the cheerleader's ear. "Would it completely creep you out if I told you that watching you kiss Finn actually turned me on a little?"

Santana almost drops Rachel as she gags, feeling the threat of vomit again at the mention of a memory she had already almost successfully repressed. An absolute grimace crosses her face, "Yes. Yes it would." But, after a few steps, a smug grin spreads across her face as she thinks back on the rest of that game. "Now, what _was_ fucking sexy was you and Q and that body shot... like, just wow." She licks her lips at the memory.

Rachel buries her head into the Latina's shoulder in embarrassment. "That was horrible!" she laments, her voice vibrating against Santana, who just laughs amusedly. "And everyone was watching..." she whines.

"Yeah," Santana nods, a smirk playing on her lips. "I should get that picture from Puck... hang it in my room and cherish it forever," she teases, though part of her actually considers the idea seriously.

Rachel groans against her neck and she just chuckles again before lowering the girl to the ground, the pair having reached Santana's front door. She roots around in her pocket for a moment before successfully retrieving her keys. When she pulls them out, Rachel grabs her hand and spins her before taking them from her grasp. Santana's about to object, but the diva pushes her back against the door and she finds herself unable to form words, wondering where this aggressive version of Rachel has emerged from. _The alcohol_, she reminds herself.

Rachel raises her key-wielding hand over the Latina's shoulder to half-assedly work at opening the lock before she reaches her other hand up to the cheerleader's cheek, leaning in to brush their lips together. They settle into their familiar dance, and Santana's hands drift to a familiar spot, finding residence in the diva's back pockets.

The lock clicks behind her and Santana just reaches blindly back to grab the door handle and open the door, pulling the diva in with her. She doesn't part their lips as she closes the door and takes the keys from the diva's hand, just dropping them onto the bench before shrugging her jacket off to join them. She lifts her hands to push Rachel's jacket off of her shoulders, and the diva leans slightly back to let the garment fall to the floor.

Santana starts to walk backwards towards the stairs, a hand around the diva's waist guiding the girl with her, her other hand reaching back to search out the banister of the staircase. One she successfully manages to grab hold of it, she does break lip contact, grabbing the diva's hand and pulling her up the stairs.

Once they reach Santana's room, the Latina immediately takes Rachel into her arms again, reuniting their lips as she turns around to walk the diva towards the bed. When the backs of Rachel's legs hit the bed, she pauses to reach down and quickly undo her jeans and dispose of them. Santana, seeing the girl do so, quickly disposes of her own jeans as Rachel sits down on the edge of the bed. The diva starts slowly sliding backwards towards the centre of the bed and Santana licks her lips at the sight. She leans down and slowly crawls onto the bed and on top of the diva.

She leans in to kiss the girl and their tongues start another slow dance before she pulls back, rather trailing soft bites and licks down the diva's neck. Rachel moans softly and relaxes her head back into the pillow, raising a hand to her forehead, feeling nothing but bliss at the moment.

Santana abandons the girl's neck, choosing instead to slide down her lithe body and start working on her stomach. She slightly hikes the diva's top up before letting her lips drop onto smooth, muscular skin. She grins as the muscles lightly contract beneath her touch. She lingers around the girl's bellybutton for a few attentive moments before starting to trail further up, hiking the diva's top up along with her.

She makes it about halfway up to Rachel's bra before she hears it: snoring. She drops her forehead onto the girl's stomach with a bit of a groan. _You've got to be fucking kidding me._ She shifts her head so that her chin is resting on the diva's midsection, and she's looking up at the comatose girl. She finds a small smile spreading across her face despite her frustration, willing to bet that the diva has no clue that she snores.

She lifts her head and climbs back up the diva's body, turning the girl onto her side in the hopes of silencing her snoring. It works, and she smiles further as she moves in behind the girl, throwing an arm over her midsection to pull her in tight, twining her legs with the diva's. It happens almost automatically, and it takes a second before Santana registers what she's doing, but, when she does, her eyes snap open.

_I'm spooning her. By choice. What the fucking fuck?_ She starts semi-freaking out internally, wondering where the fuck this sudden impulse has come from, but, as the smell of Rachel's hair wafts into her nostrils, she finds herself relaxing completely. Her eyes drift shut and she focuses on the feel of the diva's body against her own. It feels like their bodies are moulded together, and Santana's not entirely sure she's ever felt this close to anyone.

_I guess this isn't really the _worst_ thing ever,_ she muses with a content smile as she drifts into sleep.

* * *

**The terrible, terrible song that Quinn and Santana keep singing is 'Friday' by Rebecca Black. If you haven't heard it, consider yourself lucky ;)**

**So, a bit of good news/bad news now. The good = I have a fair number of plans for our girls and a definite story arc, so WB is _so_ not even an issue for us at this juncture. The bad = I've got a huge stack of ungraded papers sitting next to me and a lot more to come... not to mention exams. (Ugh x9000.) That being said, I guarantee I'll get something up next week, but I can't say when for certain at this point.**

**Thanks again for reading :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: ****Hey, look! Saturday update! I squeaked in at the end of the week... ;) Loosely edited due to time contraints, so I hope it's not too, too bad :S**

**Also, to everyone who went and watched the Rebecca Black video after last chapter, I am **_**so**_** sorry. My absolute last intention was to punish you for reading ;)**

* * *

Santana wakes to an itchy sensation on her cheek. She crinkles her nose a few times trying to shift off the eyelash, or whatever it is, but to no avail. She doesn't open her eyes but raises her hand to wipe off the offending item, but, as she does, she ends up with a handful of hair. Her eyes snap open to see the head of dark, chocolate tresses in front of her. She shifts her gaze down to see that her body is still resting against the body of the girl in front of her, and, despite herself, she smiles.

She lifts herself slightly off of the bed to look over the diva to the clock on the nightstand, the time already pushing on noon. She lowers herself back down and repositions her head so that she's not eating the girl's hair. She lifts her hand to brush through the diva's slightly mussed hair, pushing it to the side so that she can lean in to place a soft kiss the nape of the diva's neck. Rachel groans in response and Santana chuckles lightly into her neck.

"Hey," she coos softly, lifting her head onto her hand as she continues to play with the diva's hair. "How are you feeling?"

The small girl groans once more before tugging on the covers to pull them over her head. Moments later, though, she tosses the covers off completely and sits upright abruptly. There's a pause, and Santana raises a curious eyebrow before, without warning, Rachel stands and bolts out of the room, leaving an incredibly confused Latina in her wake.

Santana sits up herself and listens, and it's not long before she hears it: Rachel emptying her guts out in the bathroom. She can't help but chuckle lightly despite her concern as she quickly gets up and heads out to check on the diva.

Rachel is sitting on the ground, hovering over the toilet bowl as Santana approaches, grabbing a hair tie from a jar on the countertop before getting down on one knee next to the girl, pulling her hair back and tying it out of her face. She reaches down to run a soothing hand up and down the diva's back. "It's ok, it's ok. Just let it all out," she coos softly, continuing the comforting motion as the diva releases another stream into the porcelain. _Poor girl_, the Latina muses with a bit of a sympathetic smile, quite happy at the moment that puke doesn't particularly gross her out.

Once Rachel seems to be done, mostly just dry-heaving at this point, Santana reaches out to grab some toilet paper. The spent diva spits into the bowl one final time before shifting to lean back against the bathtub in exhaustion. Santana leans forward to wipe the diva's mouth before handing her another bit of the paper so that she can blow her nose.

As Rachel cleans herself up, Santana pops up and grabs some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet before filling a glass with cold water from the tap. She takes a seat in front of the diva, handing her the glass and pills, which the girl takes obediently. She chugs nearly the entire glass of water before handing it back to the Latina and looking up with completely bloodshot eyes. "I feel like I'm dead," she laments, raising a hand to her absolutely pounding forehead. For all the sleep she got, she feels like she hasn't slept a single minute.

Santana can't help but chuckle lightly as she shifts to lean against the tub as well, pulling the diva's head onto her shoulder, running a hand over her hair. "Yeah... that's what happens when you drink too much."

"My head feels like a tin can," the diva whines.

The Latina nods knowingly, "Spray paint can."

"Hm?"

"Your brain is like the little ball that rattles around when you shake the can," she elaborates, making a shaking motion with her hand.

Rachel groans at the thought and turns to bury her face into the cheerleader's shoulder, grasping at her shirt in a desperate attempt to bury herself further. "Ugh. That's the one."

Santana chuckles softly again and continues to stroke the small girl's head, but after a few short moments the diva abruptly lunges towards the toilet again.

"Oh god," she breathes out before releasing another round.

The Latina just shifts forward to rub the girl's back again, dropping her head into her other hand with a bit of a sigh. Clearly the girl is not having the greatest of times. No one's first hangover is fun... _No one's _any_ hangover is fun_. "Guess we're gonna need more ibuprofen, then," she muses aloud.

"It's not vegan, anyway," the diva's voice echoes from the porcelain bowl.

Santana rolls her eyes before an idea hits her and she rises to her feet. "Are you gonna be ok for a few minutes if I go down to the kitchen and grab some stuff for you?" The diva just waves a dismissive hand without lifting her head and the Latina nods before heading downstairs.

When she enters the bathroom again a short while later, she is carrying two bottles of transparent orange liquid, a cup of steaming liquid, and a bottle of pills. Rachel, who has moved back to her spot against the tub, looks up with a questioning eyebrow.

Santana takes a seat in front of the diva before placing the items carefully down. "Gatorade―which is vegan, for the record―ginger tea, and ginger capsules." The girl's expression doesn't change and Santana shakes her head with a bit of a smile. "Gatorade will rehydrate your incredibly dehydrated body, restore some of your blood sugar, and the electrolytes will help get your kidneys working again." she explains as she holds up one of the bottles. "And ginger," she points to both the tea and the bottle. "Promotes liver function and soothes the stomach, so... yeah. Welcome to my hangover remedies," she smiles softly.

Rachel smiles wide, looking slightly amazed. "You know, while your intelligence is an _absolute_ turn on, your expertise in this particular field leads me to believe you have a lot of experience with this..." she arches an eyebrow.

Santana chuckles with a shrug. "What can I say? One of the few benefits of a misspent youth."

The diva chuckles and shakes her head, though she immediately seems to regret it as she raises a hand to her forehead. "Shit," she breathes out.

Santana can't help but chuckle a bit while looking at the girl with an apologetic smile, holding out one of the bottles of Gatorade. "Get to drinking," she instructs simply. The diva does so and Santana cracks the other bottle, figuring it couldn't hurt to rehydrate her own body.

After a few long minutes of the diva actually keeping the liquid down, Santana looks over with a raised eyebrow. "You ok? Should we move this party back into the bedroom?" she raises her eyebrows suggestively, unable to resist.

Rachel chuckles slightly. "Yeah, I think we're good."

Santana gives the girl a toothbrush so that she can brush her teeth before the pair head back into the bedroom, where Rachel quickly drinks the tea and takes the capsules. Santana throws on a movie―'Aristocats', of course, for the music―to keep them company before climbing onto the bed. The Latina takes a seat leaning against the headboard, sitting Indian-style, and Rachel settles her head onto the cheerleader's lap. Santana runs one hand absently along the diva's ponytail as she uses the other to lightly massage the girl's scalp.

"Mmm," Rachel sighs contentedly. "That feels good."

Within the first fifteen minutes of the movie, the diva is fast asleep, a dull snore emanating from her sleeping form. Santana doesn't want to disturb her, though―figuring a bit of sleep will probably do some good for her hangover―so she just continues the comforting motion along the diva's head while she watches the movie, which she hasn't seen in years anyway.

By the time the credits start to roll it's past 2 in the afternoon, and Santana runs the back of her hand along the diva's cheek. "Wake up, sleepyhead," she coos softly. Rachel stirs slightly, but doesn't wake, just mumbling some incoherent words before going silent again. Santana chuckles lightly before bending down to place a soft kiss on the diva's lips, and it seems to wake the girl who starts to return the upside-down embrace.

Their tongues dance slowly, lazily for a few moments before Rachel pushes the Latina away, sitting upright hastily and raising a hand to her chest as she releases a deep burp.

Santana slightly grimaces. "Attractive," she teases.

The diva slightly shakes her head before raising her hand to her forehead and collapsing back onto the cheerleader's lap with a groan. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Just after two."

She takes a deep breath and releases it as a sigh, her hand still resting on her forehead and her eyes closed. "I should probably go home."

Santana nods. "Ok, I'll drive you."

Rachel opens her eyes to look pointedly up at the Latina. "Uh, yeah," she smiles kindly, her tone immediately letting Santana know that she thinks it's a bad plan. "I don't think that's such a good idea. There might be some serious questions if my dads see you dropping me off..."

Santana sighs as she remembers that the diva lied about staying over, a large part of her wishing that that didn't have to be the case. "Ok," she cedes softly before slightly smirking. "So, you just gonna do the walk of shame, then?"

The diva scoffs a laugh. "Maybe the cab ride of shame."

The Latina chuckles and nods, "Ok, then."

The pair get up and Rachel grabs her jeans from the ground, heading off to the bathroom to re-humanize herself, while Santana calls a cab for the diva. When she hangs up, the cheerleader heads into the hallway to check on the diva again.

Rachel walks to the doorway of the bathroom looking pronouncedly better and holding up her toothbrush. "So, should I take this with me?"

Santana looks down and clasps her hands, feeling surprisingly timid as she slowly approaches the diva. "Um, well, alternatively you could just leave it here... you know, in case you need it again..." she looks up unsurely with a raised eyebrow. "Or whatever..."

The diva smiles wide and closes the small gap between their bodies, lifting to her toes to brush her lips against the taller girl's. "I like that."

They soon head downstairs to try to locate everything in the entryway―the jackets on the ground and shoes scattered all over the place drawing a bit of a chuckle from both girls.

Once Rachel has her shoes on she turns to the Latina. "Oh, about tonight..."

Santana furrows her brow. "Yes... tonight..." she trails off in slight confusion.

The diva's brow drops. "Our date?" she reminds the girl flatly.

Santana's eyes widen, "Right!" She shakes her head slightly. "Date," she repeats softly, mainly for herself, as she looks down.

"Yes, _date_," Rachel chuckles. "Be ready by 7:30 and I'll come pick you up."

The Latina nods in acquiescence. "So... where are we going?" she inquires with a raised eyebrow as she approaches the diva.

"It's a surprise," the girl smiles.

Santana rolls her eyes with a chuckle. "Ok... so what do I need to wear?"

"Just dress nice."

The Latina raises an eyebrow. "Ok... so what does 'nice' even mean? Are jeans ok?"

The diva shrugs. "That's up to you."

Santana groans, "I'm wearing jeans unless you tell me not to..."

The diva just shrugs again, and the sound of a horn comes from the driveway. The Latina rolls her eyes and picks up Rachel's jacket, dusting it off lightly before helping the girl into it.

"My gentleman," the diva notes, earning another roll of the eyes.

When she turns back around, Santana pulls her in for a tight hug. "Eat something when you get home. Preferably something carb- and protein-heavy," she instructs the girl softly.

The diva chuckles lightly as she pulls away. "Ok, mom," she says playfully before leaning in for a kiss. "Seven-thirty," she reminds the girl once more with a point as she drops to her feet, turning towards the door. "Oh, and jeans are fine," she smiles over her shoulder before disappearing out of the house.

Santana just smiles and shakes her head, _Jackass_, as she stares at the closed door for a prolonged moment before heading back into the house.

* * *

It's only about an hour later when a freshly fed and showered Santana walks into her room with a stretch and a yawn, starting to wonder if she should have taken advantage of the opportunity to nap while Rachel was catching her own Zs. As she's about to start getting dressed, her phone vibrates against the nightstand. She ambles over to see she missed a text while she was in the shower. It's from Puck, and it's characteristically short and to the point.

'Hang?'

She chuckles. 'If you want to come shopping..? I have a date with Rach tonight.'

'Cool. i'll drive?'

Her face splits into a smile. 'Sure. I can be ready in 20?'

'Ok'

She doesn't bother to blow dry her hair, rather roughly towel drying it before throwing it up in a ponytail, and she just throws on fresh jeans and a tee before heading downstairs. As usual, Puck is on time and waiting in the driveway, and Santana just grabs a jacket and her keys before heading out.

She climbs up into the passenger side seat before turning towards the boy with a kind smile. "Hey."

"Hey, babe," he greets with a wide smile. "How you feeling today?" he smirks slightly.

The Latina smirks as she pulls on her seatbelt. "Well, _I'm _feeling fine..."

Puck chuckles as he starts to reverse. "Ok, how's _Rachel_ feeling today?"

Santana's smirk doesn't fade. "Well, less than awesome, that's for sure."

The boy chuckles once more. "She drank like a fucking boss last night," he notes as he shifts the car into drive.

The Latina chuckles to herself with a nod. "Yeah she did." She turns towards the boy with an arched eyebrow. "So how was the rest of the party?"

"Good. You missed some good times skipping out so early."

"Early?" the girl scoffs out. "I left around 4..."

The boy nods, "Yeah. Lots of people kicked around until about 7."

Santana's eyes slightly widen before she chuckles and shakes her head. "I'm getting too old for that shit, man."

Puck looks over with a furrowed brow. "Bullshit." He turns back towards the road with a shake of his head and a bit of a knowing grin. "You only left to get laid."

The Latina scoffs a laugh. "Well, when you're right, you're right." She quickly grows curious, though, the party still on the forefront of her mind. She shifts in her seat to better face the boy. "So... I get the impression things aren't really _progressing_ with you and Q. I mean, I don't even see you guys _talk_... not even last night. And, unless you're keeping shit from me, you're not hanging out..."

Puck sighs heavily, shifting his weight in his seat as he runs a heavy hand over his mohawk. "It's not exactly going how I planned," he answers simply.

Santana arches an eyebrow. "What, you thought you were just gonna sing a little song and blondie would pop back into bed?"

The boy smirks and half shrugs, "Well, ideally."

The girl laughs and rolls her eyes. "You know better than that."

Puck nods, still wearing a smile. "I do." He sighs exhaustedly, though, and his face drops. "I just don't know what to do with her. She's a fucking puzzle... or a maze... or something else that's complicated as fuck."

Santana nods as they pull up to a red light. "Yeah, that girl's a fucking game of kakuro. You think you've got her figured out, but you never do."

Puck looks over blankly and shakes his head. "You've got way too much brains for having that much breasts," he says flatly, shooting an obvious look down at the girl's chest.

She laughs and punches the boy's shoulder lightly. "Don't be an asshat."

The boy just raises his eyebrows suggestively before turning back to the road and shifting the vehicle back into motion. "So... where are we going anyway? 'Cause I've just been driving and I have no clue."

"Flower shop first, then the mall," the girl answers simply.

"Ah," Puck nods. "So the part where I fall asleep followed by the part where I slip into a coma."

Santana laughs again before shrugging, a bit of a smirk playing across her lips. "Hey, you volunteered. Besides, flower shop is just in, grab something pretty, then out. And at the mall you have the _supreme_ privilege of seeing my try on some sexy ass outfits."

The boy looks over briefly, trailing his eyes down the Latina's body, slightly agape, before turning back towards the road with a wide smile. "There _is_ a fucking god, after all."

Santana laughs and shakes her head before the car goes silent.

"So what are you guys doing tonight anyway?" Puck questions curiously.

"I have no idea. It's a '_surprise_'," she rolls her eyes.

Puck huffs a laugh. "You two are so fucking gay."

Santana looks over with a raised eyebrow and nods. "Yes. In the literal sense."

Puck just rolls his eyes and the Latina grows curious.

"You went on a date with her, didn't you?" The boy nods. "Where did you go?"

"The 'Stix," the boy smiles wide.

Santana nods and raises an eyebrow. "She pick it or you?"

Puck huffs in disbelief. "_I_ planned that shit. You know me, I'm a smooth operator," he nods smugly.

The Latina scoffs a laugh, "Riiiiiight... as proven by your current status with Tubbers." The boy just groans and Santana smiles wide in satisfaction. "Anyway, I don't think Rachel would pick the 'Stix 'cause, well, _no offense_, but it's kind of the typical teenage boy thing to do."

The boy scoffs. "It's good food and all-you-can-eat breadsticks... what the fuck more could you ask for?"

Santana chuckles, "I don't know, maybe a level of creativity beyond that of a thirteen-year-old boy?"

Puck just shakes his head. "So it's not just Q, then," he observes simply. Santana raises an eyebrow and looks at the boy in utter confusion. He doesn't look over, but he can feel the girl's stare and he smirks. "You're _all_ fucking insane," he elaborates.

The Latina just chuckles and nods as she turns back towards the road, "Yeah we are."

It's only about five minutes later when they pull up to their first destination―a relatively small flower boutique just across the street from Lima's one and only shopping centre. The pair enter the shop, the overwhelming smell of spring hitting their nostrils as they do and causing them both to reflexively smile.

"I fucking love flowers," Puck says simply, causing Santana to look over with a furrowed brow. He shrugs, "They smell like a chick's perfume."

Santana just scoffs a slight laugh and shakes her head as they start to look around. She makes a point of walking by all the hideous bouquets near the front of the store, rather heading to the back where there are some real stunners. _Something pink_, she mentally decides as she runs her hand across some of the arrangements, some of them looking just about perfect. She wears a soft smile, but it fades when she leans in to check the prices.

"Holy fuck," she voices in surprise, turning towards Puck with a raised eyebrow. "Have flowers _always_ been this expensive?"

The boy shrugs. "I have no fucking clue. I've never really _done_ the flower thing."

Santana smirks slightly. "Me neither."

Puck raises an eyebrow. "You're really into her," he surmises with a bit of a kind smile.

She just shrugs. "It is what it is."

Puck nods before suddenly growing serious. "Ok... I have to ask, I've been _dying_ to know..." He lowers his voice slightly and leans closer before continuing. "How's Berry in the sack? I mean, I never got that, and it's kind of killing me not knowing what I'm missing out on..." he trails off with bright, expectant eyes.

Santana slightly laughs at the boy's enthusiasm before taking to chewing her lip, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Um, honestly? I don't know yet..."

The boy goes completely agape, eyes wide. "You mean to tell me you've been dating this chick for, what, two weeks?" The girl nods. "And you _still_ haven't hit that?"

The Latina shrugs. "I mean, we've gotten close a bunch of times, it's just never actually _happened_."

"Wow. I mean, just," the boy shakes his head in slight amazement. "Wow."

Santana arches an eyebrow in return, "Right?"

Puck's brow furrows, the boy obviously still swimming in disbelief. "If nothing else, I thought last night... I mean, you guys left really fast and Rachel was _all_ fucking over you."

The Latina smirks with a bit of an embarrassed chuckle. "She passed out."

The boy starts laughing heartily, "No way!"

Santana starts to laugh slightly herself, the situation being relatively funny as it were. "Way," she answers simply.

Puck sighs as he catches his breath again, raising a hand to his chest. "Classic."

Santana sighs herself, but in frustration, as she continues to pore over the various arrangements that are priced _way_ out of the range she had set for herself. "You know, maybe you should consider looking at some flowers for Tubs..." she suggests simply. "'Cause your game is currently progressing at the speed of fail."

The boy scoffs. "You know how I do."

The Latina looks over with a raised eyebrow. "I thought it was all 'hit it and quit it'?"

Puck raises an eyebrow in return with a smirk. "Look who's talking."

Santana just chuckles.

A salesperson suddenly starts to approach them―an older woman who's been watching them with a discerning eye since they entered the shop. _We're not gonna fucking rob the place, bitch_, the Latina muses angrily as the woman draws nearer.

"Hello there, can I help you with anything today?" she inquires with the fakest smile Santana thinks she's ever seen and with obvious condescension.

"Uh, yeah," Santana starts with an unimpressed tone, pointing at the arrangements in front of her. "Do you have anything that's cheaper and _not_ ugly?"

Puck fails to stifle a laugh as the saleswoman frowns, and Santana just smiles innocently, feeling entirely satisfied.

* * *

After spending entirely too much time in the mall, by Puck's measure, the pair finally get back to Santana's house around 7, and by the time she's ready to go, she's bordering on being late. She rushes downstairs and peers out the living room window to see that the diva is ready and waiting at the end of the driveway, right on time if not a little early. She proceeds to the front door and leans out to wave at the girl before turning back into the house, where Puck has followed her out from the living room.

"Leaving?" he inquires with a raised eyebrow, taking a spot leaning against the wall of the entryway.

Santana nods. "Remember to make sure the deadbolt's on before you leave," she instructs simply as she rummages through her pockets to make sure she has everything. She had agreed to let Puck chill at her house for a bit while she's gone, his own home life not being exceptionally stellar of late.

The boy nods and starts towards the door as the Latina turns to leave, but, as they reach the doorway, she abruptly spins around to face the boy once more. Her brow is dropped and she speaks firmly as she glares up at the boy. "And _don't_ eat me out of house and home."

Puck just smirks. "Babe, I've eaten you out plenty of times... and many of those times _were_ out of house and home," he wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

Santana scoffs with a bit of a laugh before shaking her head and punching the boy in the shoulder. "You know nothing beyond douchebaggery, do you?" she asks teasingly.

The boy just shrugs with a smug smile, "You love it."

The Latina shakes her head softly before looking up again with a bit of a sheepish smile. "Thanks, Puck... for helping me out today."

He shakes his head. "No worries, San. You're my number one chick. I'm always looking out for you," he smiles sincerely, his soft eyes letting her know that his words are the absolute truth.

Santana's smile spreads and she steps towards the boy to wrap him up in a friendly hug. Puck smirks at the contact and reaches a hand down to squeeze the girl's ass, drawing a squeak before the Latina jumps back, slapping his hand away and cutting him with a murderous glare.

She points out a threatening finger. "Watch it," she says firmly before turning and finally exiting the house.

Puck leans outside, holding onto the doorframe. "Remember to use protection!" he shouts after her, earning a flip of the bird in return. He starts to laugh. "_Believe_ me, your pride isn't worth an unwanted pregnancy!" he struggles out, nearly doubling over on the porch.

Santana just groans, suddenly very happy that Rachel can't hear the boy's words from inside her car. She puts on a smile, though, as she approaches the car, and shoots another soft wave to the diva before she opens the door. She climbs into the passenger seat, closing the door before turning to the girl with a bit of a shy smile. "Hey," she greets softly before leaning towards the diva and pulling her in for a chaste kiss.

When she pulls away, Rachel is wearing as bright a smile as she can muster under the circumstances. "Hi," she greets sheepishly.

Santana looks over the diva for a moment as she does up her seatbelt, Rachel's laboured breathing and unnatural hue making her wonder if the girl should be driving at all. "How are you feeling?" she asks gently with an eyebrow raised.

The girl sighs, "I'm fine."

_Bullshit._

Santana nods slowly. "You look hungover as fuck," she observes with a bit of playfulness, not wanting to upset the small girl.

Rachel shrugs, "I mean, yeah, ok. Bright lights are a bit of an issue at the moment... as are loud noises... but otherwise I'm alright."

"Uh huh," the Latina monotones with a dropped brow. "So how about if _I_ drive instead?"

The diva huffs her disapproval at the idea, crossing her arms in front of her body. "Santana, I am perfectly fine to drive. And besides, if you were to drive it would ruin the _surprise_ aspect of tonight's outing."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Rach, I'm not entirely sure you're good to―"

"I got here, didn't I?" the diva interrupts combatively.

The Latina definitely does not want this to turn into a fight, so she sighs and runs a hand over her hair. "I'm just concerned, is all."

Rachel sighs in return, running a tired hand over her face before slightly turning with a soft smile. "Ok, I'll tell you what. _I _drive there, and if afterwards you're still worried about my capabilities, then _you_ can drive back. Sound alright?"

Santana's brow furrows, _Not really..._ but she really can't help but give in to the small girl, whose smile almost looks pleading. "Ok," she answers simply with a kind smile.

"Ok," the diva smiles wide as she shifts the car into motion.

It's only about a 15 minute drive before Rachel is pulling into a familiar parking lot and Santana is raising a hand to her forehead in disbelief.

"Oh my god," she stifles a laugh, staring at the familiar building not too far in front of them. "You're taking me to Breadstix."

The diva looks mildly offended as she chances a quick glance over at the Latina. "Breadstix is an entirely acceptable location for a date," she says with a bit of a defensive edge.

The Latina looks down and shakes her head slightly with a bit of a smirk. "Yeah, maybe if you're a thirteen-year-old boy..."

Rachel scoffs pronouncedly as she shifts the car into park. "It is a fine eating establishment and it has vegan options such that _I_ can actually enjoy a meal here as well," she offers, suddenly seeming insecure about the location.

Santana rolls her eyes but cedes with a nod. "It's a fine choice," she assures the girl with a smile, leaning over to place a kiss on her cheek just to make sure she knows it's the truth.

When she pulls away the diva is smiling shyly with a bit of a blush across her cheeks. "So, shall we?" she asks brightly before opening her door.

Santana smiles and climbs out of the car herself, meeting the diva at the front of the vehicle. She leans in briefly to softly peck her on the lips before running a hand down one of the diva's arms and taking the girl's small hand into her own. Rachel looks up at her with a questioning expression, and she just shrugs with a smile. "After last night everyone who matters either knows or is gonna find out on Monday, anyway," she squeezes the small hand in her possession reassuringly.

The diva's face splits into a wide smile and she pulls her hand away to rather link her arm with the Latina's as they start a slow stroll towards the restaurant. "So," she starts, lightly bumping her shoulder into the cheerleader's. "Dinner's on me tonight."

Santana stops walking abruptly, immediately jolting the diva to a stop as well. She looks down at the shorter girl with a dropped brow. "Rachel, no," she argues softly, shaking her head. "This is too much."

The diva waves her free hand dismissively as she starts to walk again, pulling a reluctant Santana along with her. "Don't be ridiculous. This is our first date, _nothing_'s too much."

The Latina lightly blushes and turns her head forward once more. "_Second_ date," she corrects with a smirk, drawing a scoff and roll of the eyes from the shorter girl that make her full-on smile.

They enter the restaurant and are quickly seated at the booth that the diva had reserved for 8 o' clock. They place their drink orders―Santana opting for an iced tea and Rachel simply choosing water―before they start to look over their menus. Though Santana probably knows the menu by heart at this point, she still feels the need to look it over every time (as if she won't get the same thing she gets _every single time_ she's here).

She drops her menu slightly to watch the diva for a few thoughtful moments―who looks ghostly pale, and at one point even looks like she might throw up again. She arches an eyebrow, "You know, we didn't have to do this today... what, with your current 'condition' and all," she slightly chuckles as she takes a sip from her glass.

Rachel lays her menu flat on the table before glaring at the Latina for an extended moment. "Don't be silly," she waves a dismissive hand. "I'm fine," she reiterates as she looks back at the menu, trying to stay composed despite the fact that reading about food―and especially looking at _pictures_ of food―is currently making her feel slightly nauseous again.

Santana notices and smirks, grabbing the container of breadsticks and holding it out towards the diva, "Breadsticks? They'll absorb some of the acidity that's making you feel so 'fine'," she winks.

The diva rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, but the action makes her head hurt and she raises a hand to her forehead with a groan. "Ugh, why do people even drink?" she voices gruffly, reaching out to retrieve a breadstick and taking a pronounced bite.

Santana chuckles as she puts the canister back down. "The real question is 'why do people drink that _much_'... and, really, only you can answer that."

Rachel sighs heavily, but decides to ignore the comment, turning her attention back to the menu in front of her. "So, what are you getting?" she asks absently.

Santana has an eyebrow raised and her lips pressed together, feeling unimpressed by the diva's avoidance of the question. "Well," she draws out as a bit of a smirk spreads across her lips. "Usually I would consider getting the nice, _juicy_, deep-fried goodness of chicken fingers..." she points to the photo on the menu across the table. "But, knowing that you're footing the bill, I'm leaning towards one of these big, fat, _bloody_ steaks." She watches the diva's face as she points to the item, which goes impossibly paler as the girl places her half-eaten breadstick down on the table and raises a hand to her mouth.

"I'm gonna be sick," she breathes out quickly before abruptly rising to her feet and rushing off to the bathroom.

The waitress stops by at the same moment, watching with a raised eyebrow as the diva runs away before turning her attention to Santana. "So... a few more minutes then?"

The Latina chuckles with a bit of a nod, "Yeah, I guess so."

The waitress takes off again and Santana rises to her feet, figuring it's probably a good idea to go make sure Rachel's still alive. She enters the bathroom to see that only one stall is occupied―the handicap stall in the back corner. She pads over softly before letting her knuckles tap the door, "Rachel?"

"Go away," a tired, echoed voice comes, obviously belonging to the diva, who obviously has her face buried in a toilet again.

The Latina rolls her eyes. "Rach, let me in," she pleads gently.

"No way! It's entirely possible that this is the most embarrassing experience of my life and I don't think I want an audience!" she wheezes out, and Santana can tell there are probably tears involved.

She sighs, actually feeling a little bad. Though she fully wanted to tease the diva, making her literally physically ill was pretty much the last thing she had intended to do. She drops her forehead onto the cool metal of the door, _Fucking hell_. Barely ten minutes into dinner and this night is already shaping up to join her list of top ten worst dates―though, strangely enough, it's not the first one to involve vomit. She presses her palm flat against the door. "Just let me in," she breathes out softly, so softly she's not even sure the girl can hear her. She quickly groans in frustration and decides to take matters into her own hand.

Santana makes her way into the neighbouring stall, putting the toilet lid down before stepping up onto the makeshift footstool and leaning over the divider between the two stalls. From what she can see and what she's heard since she entered the room, she's pretty sure it's mostly liquid that's been expelled. She leans her chin onto her hands as she looks down with an unimpressed stare. "Did you eat today?"

Rachel spits into the bowl before speaking, not lifting her head to respond. "Not as such, no."

The Latina groans silently before dropping her forehead onto her hands. _Well no fucking wonder you're sick_. "You're eating tonight," she speaks firmly, pretty much into the wall between them. "I don't care if the look or smell or whatever makes you _think_ you're gonna be sick... but you're eating actual food."

The diva just groans.

Santana takes a deep breath and releases it as a sigh before standing upright on the toilet once more. _Alright, that's enough of this bullshit_. "I'm coming in." With that abrupt warning, she steps up on top of the tank and climbs onto the divider before taking pause, suddenly wondering how the hell to get down―the toilet in the larger stall being a good three feet away from where she is.

The diva looks up in utter shock, "Santana, what are you doing?.!"

The cheerleader doesn't respond but braces herself, counting to three internally before dropping to her feet on the ground, her knees slightly buckling as she steadies herself against the divider. She breathes out a sigh of relief before taking the couple short steps to approach the diva and getting down on one knee. "You know, this isn't usually the reason I follow a chick into the bathroom..." she smirks as she raises a hand to the diva's back.

Rachel rolls her eyes as she leans back from the bowl, cutting the Latina with a bit of a glare. "You could have broken your leg."

The Latina chuckles and shakes her head. "Yes, that 6 foot drop could've very well been the death of me."

Rachel just rolls her eyes again, leaning against the wall with a sigh.

Santana mimics her actions from earlier in the day, grabbing some toilet paper to clean off the diva and giving her some to blow her nose with. Once the diva looks relatively put together again, Santana speaks with a raised eyebrow. "Are you feeling any better?" she asks softly, her eyes laced with genuine concern as she runs a hand along the diva's forearm.

Rachel nods slowly as she blows her nose. "Yeah, I think so."

"Ok," the Latina nods with a slight smile. "Then we should probably get back to our table before our waitress thinks we're either getting down and dirty in here or that we dined and dashed on a glass of iced tea," she winks. The diva chuckles slightly, and Santana stands and offers her hand.

After Rachel washes her hands and cleans herself up a bit, they make their way back into the restaurant and back into their seats. As Santana sits down she hears something crunch in the pocket of her jacket and her eyes widen. "Oh! I almost forgot," she voices in sudden realization, earning a look of confusion from the girl across the table. She reaches into her coat before handing the diva a small packet.

Rachel takes the item into her hand and stares at it for a moment. "Kalanchoe blossfeldiana..?" she sounds out uncertainly before looking up at the Latina quizzically. "Flower seeds?"

"Well yeah, it's not flowers because, well, full disclosure, really pretty flowers are actually _really_ fucking expensive..." she smiles apologetically and the diva chuckles. "But it's the promise of future flowers," She presses on, unsure of how to proceed. "They'll grow as we grow, blossom as we blossom, and, well, when that happens, you'll know that I was thinking of that day even now." It comes out as verbal diarrhea, and to be honest Santana's not even sure where it came from, but once it's out there she groans inwardly at the corniness and the sentimentality in her words.

Rachel looks up in slight amazement and with a heavy blush as she plays with the packet between her fingers. "I... I don't even know what to say..." she trails off softly.

"Well, just chalk it up to me being cheap," the Latina shrugs with a bit of a smirk. "But, they're pink... and they should grow fine indoors―especially with your south-facing window, according to the sales chick..." she trails off, looking away awkwardly as she fiddles with her hands on the table, suddenly feeling surprisingly bashful. "So, yeah..."

Rachel reaches a hand across the table to still the cheerleader's hands and to draw her eyes back to her own. "That was very thoughtful, Santana. Thank you," she smiles brightly.

Santana's own smile spreads to match as the waitress returns to take their orders.

* * *

The pair dine with idle chatter and some laughs, with Rachel actually managing to keep her food down, before they wind up back at the diva's car, where Santana insists on driving. At the diva's protests, she simply reminds the girl that it was _her_ who suggested that the Latina could drive back if she so chose. As a result, they share an awkwardly silent ride in Rachel's shit box car, the passenger side of the vehicle wearing a pronounced pout all the way back to the Berry household.

They pull into the driveway and the diva abruptly exits the car and rounds it to the driver's side to wait for Santana to climb out. When she does, Rachel has an expectant hand extended that makes the Latina arch an eyebrow. She raises one of her own hands and slaps the diva's palm with a bit of a smirk.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Keys, please," she commands firmly, jutting her hand out insistently.

Santana just sighs and drops the oversized keychain into the diva's palm, as requested.

Rachel starts towards the door with the Latina following close behind and actually reaches out to unlock the door before Santana grabs her by the wrist and spins her around, quickly capturing the shorter girl's lips with her own. Rachel's hands instinctively drift around the Latina's neck, the cold metal of the keychain sending a shiver through the cheerleader as it contacts her warm skin. Santana's own hands move around the diva's waist, drifting slightly up beneath her jacket and taking residence on the small of her back. The kiss itself stays chaste―longing pecks with only small, interspersed licks, and slow, time consuming tenderness.

Santana pulls slightly back and the diva pouts, causing her to chuckle. "Thank you for dinner," she breathes out softly before leaning in to lightly nip the girl's protruding lower lip. Rachel gasps slightly, and _Oh my god_. Santana's eyes go black as she leans further in, and this time she lets her tongue dip inside the diva's mouth as she flattens her hands against the girl's back to pull her impossibly closer.

Rachel starts to return the embrace and it's not long before Santana has the smaller girl pressed up against the front door and her hands are starting to roam, starting to feel out more bare skin, more heat. Her mind is clouded and her eyes are closed and all she can feel is the diva's tongue; the girl's hand tangling into her hair; hot, ragged breaths brushing across her lips and teeth. She lightly scratches her nails down the girl's back, drawing a bit of a moan that causes more of a visceral reaction in her own body than she could have ever expected.

Despite her closed eyelids, her eyes start to sense the light flickering above them. She doesn't pull away, but does open her eyes to look up and see that the light is, in fact, flickering―but it's not the frantic flicker of a dying bulb, rather the controlled flicker of someone trying to send a message. She slightly groans before pulling her mouth away from the diva's and taking a half step back. The diva's eyes stay closed, her mouth still hanging slightly open, and the Latina releases a slight chuckle.

"I think someone knows we're out here..." she trails off, and when the diva's eyes open she points a finger up to the light.

Rachel groans and drops her head onto the Latina's shoulder. "Always interrupting..."

Santana just chuckles in amusment.

"You should probably come in and say 'hi' to my dads," the diva suggests softly as she lifts her head, looking up at the cheerleader with a bit of an apologetic smile.

Santana sighs and stares over the diva's shoulder at the door for a moment in thought before simply nodding. _Why the fuck not_.

Rachel relinquishes her hold around the Latina's neck and turns to unlock the door. They enter to an empty hallway and shed their jackets before heading into the living room, where Kevin is sitting by himself on the couch with a bit of a guilty smirk.

He looks up in mock surprise. "Kiddo!" he voices excitedly, rising from the couch and walking over to wrap the Latina up in a hug. Santana slightly laughs and Rachel just looks offended.

"Well, 'hello' to you, too, daddy," the diva scoffs out.

"I really enjoyed the light show," Santana smirks as she pulls out of the hug, speaking pointedly at Kevin who laughs heartily.

Rachel raises a curious eyebrow as she casts a glance around the room. "Where's dad?"

Kevin sighs as his laughter quells. "He's gone to bed already. He has the early shift tomorrow."

The diva just nods in understanding and Kevin gestures for the two girls to take a seat on the couch as he moves to take a seat in an armchair. The pair do settle on the sofa and Rachel rests her head on Santana's shoulder as Santana takes one of Rachel's hands into her own.

Kevin smiles at the girls' seemingly automatic search for contact momentarily before he speaks. "So, how was date night?" he asks, leaning forward in his chair in interest.

Santana laughs lightly. "Hilarious," she answers without elaboration, earning an elbow in the ribs from Rachel that makes her aware of the fact that she would have to expand on her answer.

The man arches a curious eyebrow with a wide, encouraging smile. "Why hilarious?"

The Latina's eyes widen slightly. "Uhh..." she stammers out awkwardly. "I guess we were just all giggly and shit..." Rachel tries to stifle the slight laugh that escapes with her hand, finding Santana's answer to be entirely lame, and Kevin's face just furrows in slight confusion.

"Ok..." he draws out.

Santana looks away awkwardly before looking down at her watch. "Hey!" she voices, maybe a little too excitedly as the diva next to her jumps with a start. "Uh, would you look at the time..." It's only about 11, but the Latina finds herself desperately wanting to get out of this situation, not really feeling comfortable with the prospect of lying to Kevin. "I should probably head home."

Rachel lifts her head and looks at the Latina in complete confusion. "_What_?"

Santana reluctantly turns her head to meet the diva's sad eyes. She hesitates for a moment before it hits her. "I didn't have a nap today like you did―" she stops dead in her tracks as Rachel's eyes widen and her mouth drops. _Shit_, she squeezes her eyes shut and swallows the heavy lump that has formed in her throat. "I mean, the nap you had at Kurt's house," she adds completely lamely before opening her eyes and chancing a glance over at Kevin, who looks entirely unimpressed.

He doesn't call her out on it, though. "So, how are you getting home?" he asks simply. Rachel looks in her direction as well, obviously wondering the same thing.

Santana shrugs. "Cab, I guess."

Kevin scoffs and shakes his head. "Forget it. Give me a couple minutes and I'll give you a ride." He states it as a predetermined fact more so than he offers it as an option, and the Latina finds she has no choice but to accept. She nods, and the man nods slightly in return before he gets up from his chair to go upstairs and get ready.

As soon as he's out of the room Santana releases a deep sigh and Rachel slaps her shoulder, looking over with a bit of a glare.

"What the fuck, Rachel?" the Latina questions defensively.

The diva's brow furrows. "You almost blew our cover!" she whisper-yells.

"_Our_ cover?" she scoffs out in disbelief. "_I_ didn't lie." She retraces her words. "Ok, I _did_ lie..." she sighs and runs a hand over her hair. "Look, I _really_ don't like lying to your dads, ok?"

The diva sighs in return. "I get that. I'm sorry, I just... I didn't know any other way that I'd be able to stay over at your house," she mumbles, looking down sadly.

Santana reaches a hand out to lift the diva's chin, staring deep into her eyes. "As hot as it _should_ be, I'm actually not liking this sneaking around thing." She can barely believe it's the truth, but it is. She doesn't want this to be some illicit affair, she wants it to be an actual _thing_. "I want you to tell your dads the truth about us, about what we do, about who we are. I'm getting too old for all this cloak and dagger bullshit."

Rachel sighs and drops her chin again. "I'm sorry."

Santana sighs and drops her head to rest on the diva's, starting to think she may have guilted the girl a little too far.

"I'm going to go warm up the car," Kevin's voice comes from the hallway. "You two say goodbye or whatever and Santana can just come out when she's ready."

Santana lifts her head. "Ok!" she voices back before looking back at the diva. "Rach," she coos softly. "You have nothing to feel guilty about. Just, from this point on we don't lie about shit, ok?"

"So," Rachel starts with a tiny smirk. "To be clear, you want me to tell my dads _everything_..."

Santana arches a wary eyebrow, wondering where the girl's going with this. "Well, the important stuff."

Rachel nods slowly in thought. "So..." she trails off, leaning forward and dipping her head to softly kiss and lick the Latina's neck. "Is _this_ important?" she breathes out against the now moist skin.

Santana's breath hitches as her eyelids flutter slightly, "Essential."

The diva pulls back slightly before leaning in to kiss up the Latina's jaw line, licking and nibbling at the girl's earlobe. "And this?" she whispers out.

"Yeah," Santana nods, making a conscious effort not to move her hands―knowing that if she lets herself get into it, Kevin's going to be waiting in the car for a _long_ time. "Vital," she pushes out, barely above a whisper.

Rachel pulls back with a heavy smirk. "And what about this..." she trails off softly, inching forward painfully slowly before letting her nose rub against the Latina's nose, letting her lips ghost over the Latina's lips, her hot breath making Santana grow flush.

Santana's eyes close and her hands start to hover around the diva's waist as her body threatens to take control of the wheel. She opens her eyes to see the diva's brown orbs staring deep into her own, and she makes it almost a full five-count before she can't stand it anymore. Her hands press on the small of the diva's back and her eyes drift shut as she pushes her lips forward to close the miniscule gap between their mouths. Rachel returns the kiss, soon starting to run her tongue along the Latina's lower lip. Santana lets her in and the embrace soon heats as a sense of urgency sets in.

A sharp sound cuts through the moment, though, as two abrupt horn honks come from outside the house. Santana groans and pulls back, dropping her forehead to rest on the diva's.

"Fuck," Rachel breathes out.

"Apparently not," Santana smirks, her breath slightly ragged.

Rachel rolls her eyes with a bit of a chuckle before smiling sadly. "I guess you should get going before daddy actually gets upset."

Santana nods, letting a hand drift up to the diva's neck before pulling her in for another kiss. "Ok," she breathes out against full lips.

She reluctantly stands when she pulls away, heading back into the front hallway to grab her jacket with the diva following close behind. They share another chaste kiss and a longing stare before Santana heads out to the car. She climbs into the dark SUV and turns to Kevin with a smile, but the man doesn't look back, rather just pulling out of the driveway.

It's not until Kevin is already on the road and driving that he speaks. "So..." he trails off for a moment. "Not to put you in the hot seat immediately, but... how much did Rachel drink last night?"

Santana's eyes widen and she keeps her gaze outside the window. "Uhh, I have no idea..." she trails off lamely, though it _is_ the truth―it's not like she had kept a running tally of the diva's exact alcohol intake. Kevin's tone seemed to be a knowing one, though, and she feels like she's walking into a minefield by even _trying_ to lie to the man. "I mean, last night she... Kurt..." she stammers out, trying desperately to cling to Rachel's story.

Kevin chuckles slightly and shakes his head. "I know she didn't go to Kurt's house last night. David may be as naïve as the day is long when it comes to Rachel, but I know when she's lying to me." He pauses to glance over at the Latina for a moment. "She stayed at your house, didn't she?"

Santana sighs heavily, now knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that they've been caught. She starts to internally freak out a bit, but keeps it from her voice as best she can. "Well, yes... but she didn't drink at my house," she adds quickly, trying to save _some_ face, already convinced that this ride is going to be the longest 10 minutes of her life.

Kevin glances over once more with a raised eyebrow. "Party?"

Santana nods, and the man nods in return as he turns his eyes back to the road. "Although I know that's what you kids do―drink, party, whatever―I'm not too fond of Rachel coming home drunk and/or hungover _every_ weekend."

Santana just nods again, not having a single idea of what to say.

"Ok." Kevin sighs in relief. "Just wanted to get that out of the way," he says gently, looking over with a bit of a kind smile.

Santana smiles hesitantly in return.

"So, how have you been?" the man inquires lightly, trying to shift the tone of the conversation. "How's life back at home?"

She shrugs, "I've been good, all things considered. As for being at my mom's house, it is what it is. It's just me kicking around."

Kevin nods. "And school? This week was, ahem, 'academic hell' I believe you called it?"

Santana chuckles, "Yeah. It was alright... I'm just glad all the big stuff is over."

"Except for exams," the man adds absently.

She sighs, "Yeah... I guess those are coming eventually, too."

Kevin chuckles. "I hope I'm not overstepping by asking, but how are you doing in school? Grades-wise, that is..."

Santana lights up. It's few and far between that people actually ask her that question and she gets to brag about her academic achievements. "I generally make Principal's List."

Kevin glances over in surprise, "Wait, wait, wait. That means you've got, what, a 4.0?"

"Actually," she starts with a smile. "I'm in AP classes, so my GPA usually hovers just above a 4.5."

His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. "What! I didn't even know it was _possible_ to get above 4.0!" he laughs in slight amazement.

"Yeah," Santana smiles wide with a bit of a shrug. "No one expects it, but I'm kind of a brain."

Kevin shakes his head. "Shit, kid. Just... _wow_. That's something to be proud of right there," he smiles.

Santana blushes slightly under the indirect praise.

He's still shaking his head moments later when he speaks again, seemingly thinking aloud. "I mean, hell, hopefully you'll rub off on Rachel." He winces at his own words, an unwanted mental image entering his mind. "Ok, poor choice of words..."

Santana laughs, loving that Kevin's mind is as immature as her own. She smiles once more as she looks back over at the man. "Rachel gets good grades, too. She just doesn't take the same classes. She doesn't need AP classes to get into a performing arts college, anyway."

Kevin sighs and runs a hand over his head, and Santana can tell that's something's up. She looks over to see the very obvious look of concern on the man's face. He's as emotionally readable as his daughter, and the Latina smiles as she realizes that he's where Rachel gets it from.

"You're worried she won't have a plan B," Santana intuits.

He sighs even heavier, chancing a brief, wary glance at the Latina before slightly nodding. "It's not that I think she won't succeed, it's just... you know, the dancing classes since she could stand, the singing lessons since she could speak... that's all David. David grew up dreaming about Broadway, about being a big star of the screen and the stage."

Santana just nods encouragingly, the current over share adding to her understanding of the stricter Mr. Berry.

"He lost it, though. Or, well, he let it go. He got his heart shattered by some football player, and he gave it up." Kevin looks over with an apologetic smile and sad eyes. "I think that's why he's so worried about you, kiddo. He sees his own history in Rachel's life and he's worried that history will repeat itself."

Santana nods and releases a long sigh, at once seeing why David Berry is the way that he is and understanding why it always seems like he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Suddenly Kevin's statement of 'for your own reasons' during he and David's fight makes perfect sense, and she can't even fault him for it.

"Anyway, David was a brain―like yourself―" Kevin continues. "So when he gave up on his dream, he threw himself into med school."

Santana looks over with an arched eyebrow and a bit of a smile. "'Doctor' isn't all that bad as far as back-up plans go."

Kevin chuckles, "Exactly." He immediately grows serious again, though. "But, I'm worried that Rachel doesn't have that. Her grades are exceptional, really―more than I could've ever even hoped for... but an A in French doesn't get you very far... unless you're planning to move to France, or Canada, or teach French or something."

Santana sighs again. "I honestly don't know what to tell you. I mean, you know how determined she is... she'll get where she wants to go," she shrugs. "And, alternatively, her grades would still get her into a state college."

Kevin nods, "Yeah, I know. But that determinedness is what I'm worried will be her downfall. She's so deadset on one thing that I don't think she's even considered anything else."

The car grows silent, Santana really not knowing what to say again, before Kevin just lightly chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I don't mean to lay all my shit out on you."

Santana looks over with a smile. "It's ok. I've always been a lot better at listening than talking."

Kevin huffs a bit of a laugh. "Kiddo, I'm not sure you have _any_ problem in the talking department."

Santana laughs herself. "Hey, I never said I had a problem with talking, I said I'm an even _better_ listener," she smirks, speaking with a bit of smugness.

"Pain in the ass," Kevin echoes simply, drawing another laugh from the Latina.

It's not much longer before they reach Santana's house, and she thanks Kevin for the ride before heading into the house and into her room, collapsing onto her bed with a bit of a yawn. As much as tiredness was an excuse to get out of the Berry household, it was also the truth. She pulls her phone out from her pocket to send a quick text.

'Kevin knows you were here last night, and I think he's ok with it... I'll see you Monday?'

It's mere moments before a response comes in that makes her smile. 'Ok :) Thanks for the hot date ;)'

'Anything for unlimited breadsticks ;P' she taps out quickly with a smirk.

'I see how it is.'

';) I'm glad you do.'

'You're a total douche.'

'You love it.'

'I am literally rolling my eyes.'

'Rolling in the deep?'

'Jackass.'

'Accurate.'

'I thought you were 'tired'.'

'I am, but I enjoy bothering you more than I enjoy sleeping.'

'Truer words were never spoken.'

'I'm a very honest person. I keep it real.'

'I'm going to bed.'

'Can I come?'

'You were the one who insisted on leaving :P'

Santana sighs, 'Yeah yeah. Ok, well... Have a good night and I'll see you on Monday.'

'Good night, Santana xoxo'

She just smiles at the response and plugs her phone in before heading off to get ready for bed.

* * *

**FYI, Pucktana lesbromance is my total friendship OTP... _after_ Quinntana, that is.**

**And I'm sorry for the long wait, fremps. I'll try to get next week's installment up a little closer to mid-week :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: So it's a shorter chapter and it's mainly Quinntana backstory and bonding along with a bit of set-up for future chapters. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The majority of Sunday passes by uneventfully, as most Sundays do for Santana. She spends the day doing laundry, dicking around on her laptop, and catching up on some movie watching. It's not until close to 4pm that her cell phone rings, and she looks down at the call ID to see that it's Quinn. She immediately quirks an eyebrow, _Quinn never calls..._

"What's up, Q?" she greets casually.

"Code Red," the girl responds with a tired, slightly hoarse voice.

Santana's face immediately drops and her eyes widen. "Shit," she breathes out, knowing full well that the blonde is not talking about a slushie facial. She's talking about something much older and much darker.

'Code Red' is something that Santana has not heard Quinn say in years. In their younger years, it had become a sort of signal for Quinn needing to get out of her house―mostly because of her father―with no questions asked. Santana suddenly flashes back to the day 'Code Red' came to be, a day that turned out to be just as significant to her as it probably was to Quinn.

_April 3, 2004_

_It's a Saturday afternoon and Santana is playing N64 when she hears the front door opening. She immediately pops up to her feet, knowing that it's her mother coming back from the store._

"_Mama!" she voices excitedly as she heads out into the hallway._

_When she gets there, she's surprised to see not only her mother, but also Judy Fabray and a ten-year-old Quinn. Judy has a significant shiner on her right eye as well as some bruising along her arms, and even Quinn seems to have the beginnings of a bruise on one of her forearms._

"_Mija, take Quinn here and go play some Nintendo," her mother instructs firmly._

_Santana, just pleasantly surprised to see Quinn, nods as she waves the sheepish blonde into the living room. "Wanna play Wave Race?" she asks plainly with a bit of a sympathetic smile. Despite her mother's assumption of her ignorance, Santana has a pretty good idea of what's going on._

_Quinn doesn't verbally respond, but does nod._

_The pair sit down on the ground and set to playing the game, and Judy and Maria enter the room shortly thereafter._

"_Have a seat, Judy, I'll get you something to drink," her mom offers with a kind smile, guiding the near catatonic older blonde over to the couch._

_As she turns to leave the living room, though, Santana's father appears in the doorway. "Maria, what's all this racket?" he asks before he enters to see the group of women. His brow drops and he looks like he's about to say something, but Maria quickly rushes across and out of the room, dragging the man along with her._

_They don't make it far, though, and Santana can hear when her parents start arguing, albeit in Spanish, in the hallway._

"_[What do you think you're doing, bringing these bitches into our house without even asking me?]" her father's voice booms._

"_Esteban," her mother breathes out exhaustedly. "[We have to help them out... do you see her? She's been beaten almost beyond recognition. For God's sake, even the kid is bruised up!]"_

"_[Maria, it's not our place to step into the middle of their family!]"_

"_[What do you suggest then? We just stand by while that drunken son of a bitch kills his wife and daughter?]"_

"_[And what do you plan on doing if that crazy gringo shows up here looking for them, huh? Did you ever even _consider_ that? You never fucking think!]"_

"_[You are a heartless, soulless bastard, and I hope that God takes mercy on your soul.]"_

_It's not long before Maria re-enters the living room in a huff, staring up at the ceiling and crossing her body with her hand. She walks in front of the two young girls to turn off the tv before taking a seat on the ground facing the girls with as soft an expression as she can muster through her anger._

"_Mija, Quinn," she sighs. "We need to come up with some sort of way that you," she points to the blonde. "Can let Santana here know that you need to get away from home, ok?"_

_Both girls nod._

"_Ok," Maria nods in turn. "Try to find a password or a code word, something that only the two of you will know. Quinn, you just say that word to Santana and you can come stay here, whenever you'd like and for as long as you'd like, alright?" she offers with genuine tenderness._

_Quinn nods once more._

"_Ok. Quinn, I'm going to take your mother here to get settled in upstairs. Mija," she turns towards Santana. "[Think up the word, ok?]"_

_Santana nods in acquiescence and watches as the two older women abruptly depart from the room._

_She turns her gaze to the blonde next to her with an eyebrow raised. "So it's your dad again?"_

_Quinn just nods._

_Santana shakes her head with a frown. "[Asshole,]" she breathes out, causing the blonde to look over curiously. She clears her throat slightly. "Ok, so what should our code word be?"_

_Quinn looks up in thought. "'Code Red'," she responds simply._

_Santana just nods with a bit of a sad smile. "'Code Red' it is."_

That was shortly before the first time Judy Fabray kicked Russell Fabray out of their home. Apparently getting rough with Quinn again had been the final straw. In addition, it was only about two weeks after this incident when Santana's own father left for good, without so much as a note let alone a proper goodbye. It was a memorable day, indeed, but for all the wrong reasons.

For the next few years 'Code Red' was utilized on a semi-regular basis, whenever necessary. Santana can remember almost every individual instance. Maria would let Quinn stay on the pull-out couch for nights at a time―even school nights―without asking for any sort of explanation at all. It was one of the older Latina's redeeming qualities―the amount of care she exhibited for a child that wasn't even her own.

And yet it was the nights when things got really bad at the Fabray house that were especially memorable. Quinn wouldn't call on those nights. She would just ride her bike over, even in the dead of winter, and climb the large oak tree outside of the house, scaling close to the Latina's window and simply knocking to announce her presence. It almost became automatic. Even if Santana was in the deepest of sleeps, she would wake to the quiet knocking, get up and open the window for the blonde to climb in so that they could share the bed. It was never anything romantic or sexual. Often times Santana would just hold the crying blonde until she fell asleep, whispering reassuring words into her ear and running a hand through her hair in an attempt to lull her into a state of relaxation. Maria usually wouldn't even know Quinn was there until breakfast the next morning.

The memories are sad, and they are perhaps only made all the more sad by the fact that the pair had reached a point where when Quinn needed her the most―last year during babygate―Santana wasn't even considered an option. Sue Sylvester, the Cheerios, the competition for captaincy, and even more so just the competition for _popularity_, had driven such a wedge into their friendship that Quinn didn't even think to turn to the Latina, who was once her strongest ally, in her hour of need. Santana would never admit it to anyone, not even herself, but it cut her deeper than she wished it had.

And then there's the guilt. The guilt of not being the one to step up and be the bigger person; of not putting their personal shit aside to be a good friend; of being so hung up on everything _other_ than being a friend that she didn't even think to offer the girl a place to stay, despite the fact the blonde basically had a free pass with her mother. Quinn ended up staying with someone who was practically a stranger because Santana wasn't there and Mercedes stepped up to be that person―the person that Santana wishes, in hindsight, that she had had the balls to be.

Santana sighs before abruptly shaking her head, bringing herself back to the present. "You driving or you want me to pick you up?" she asks gently.

"Pick me up," Quinn says firmly before huffing a frustrated laugh. "He's decided that my car isn't mine anymore."

Santana sighs. "Ok, Q, I'll be there in ten."

"Thanks," the blonde replies simply before hanging up.

Santana just looks down at her phone in slight disbelief. _The asshole is back_. She quickly shakes the thought and heads downstairs, not even bothering to grab a jacket, just grabbing her keys before heading out.

She makes the short drive over to the imposingly large Fabray household, a house she's always hated―the feigned kindness and false sense of entitlement never quite sitting well with her―and pulls into the driveway before honking twice abruptly. Quinn quickly emerges from the veritable fortress looking extremely frazzled, a duffle bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder, her face awash in red from crying.

As the blonde moves closer, Santana realizes that the redness on the right side of her face is darker and the pigmentation is more uneven, as if hand-shaped. She can feel immediate rage rising in her veins, the heat of it stinging her face, and she tightens her grip on the steering wheel. She can't help but think back to the first time she noticed the blonde had a bruise.

_July 17, 2001_

_It's a gorgeous summer evening, and a bored, seven-year-old Santana decides to ride her bike over to Quinn's house to see what the blonde is up to. When she arrives at the Fabray residence, Quinn is already outside and pulling her bike out of the garage at the side of the house._

_Santana waves excitedly, "Quinn!"_

_The blonde looks up in surprise and waves hesitantly back before brushing some hair down over her face with her hand. She walks over with her bike, and, though her head is down and her hair is creating a bit of a shield, Santana can see a bit of a black mark beneath one of the girl's hazel eyes that makes her arch an eyebrow._

"_Let's go to the secret place," Quinn says simply before hopping onto the saddle of her bike and starting to pedal. Santana rushes to catch up to the girl and they ride towards their destination in silence._

_The secret place was a forested spot near the lake that Quinn and Santana spent a lot of time at during their summers. It was essentially a narrow inlet that separated the lake from a small pond and had a small bridge spanning its width. It was relatively hidden away from the main roads and was, according to the pair, _by far_ the best spot for stone skipping and tree climbing._

_They arrive at the spot and Quinn unceremoniously abandons her bike before proceeding to the water's edge to grab a handful of stones. She moves up to the bridge and starts to skip the stones across the water's glistening blue surface, all without a glance back at the Latina._

_Santana carefully places her own bike down on the grass before just watching the girl, taking slow, hesitant steps towards the blonde as she stares at the bruise around her eye for an extended period of time. She scrunches her face. "What happened to your eye?" she asks curiously and with the genuine naivety of a seven-year-old._

_Quinn drops the rocks she's holding and falls to her knees, bringing her hands up to her face as she starts to cry._

_Santana has no idea what to do and cocks her head to the side in confusion. The only time she's ever seen the blonde cry before was in junior kindergarten when Noah Puckerman ripped the head off of Betsy, Quinn's favourite doll―which, _obviously_. But these tears are different somehow, and they make no sense to the Latina._

_She approaches slowly and takes a seat close to the blonde on the edge of the bridge, letting her feet dangle down over the water. A moment of silence passes before Santana reaches into the pocket of her denim overalls to retrieve something and hold it out to the blonde._

"_Here, take Toby," she says softly, holding out a small wind-up toy frog for Quinn to take. "He always makes me feel better when I'm sad."_

_The blonde looks up in slight amazement, her eyes glistening with unspent tears, before shuffling forward so that she's sitting directly next to Santana and her feet are dangling off of the edge of the bridge as well. She stares down at the green and yellow piece of plastic in the Latina's hand, smoothing her own hands over the fabric of her white sundress. "But, you love Toby," she argues softly, looking back up at the girl with wide eyes._

_Santana shrugs. "It's just a dumb frog. I have other toys. Toby helps people and you need help right now," she smiles as she hands over possession of the treasured toy._

_Quinn smiles in return, dropping her head to rest on the Latina's shoulder as she plays with the plastic frog between her hands._

"_I don't think I want to go home," the blonde says absently, her eyes fixed on the toy._

_Santana arches a curious eyebrow but doesn't move. "What do you mean?"_

_Quinn sighs. "Daddy got mad at me because I didn't do the dishes right, and... I just don't want to go home."_

_Santana nods slightly._

_Quinn's hands still and she lifts her head suddenly, looking at the Latina with wide, hopeful eyes, "Can we run away?"_

_Santana returns the stare with bright eyes and an enthusiastic smile. "We could totally build a treehouse in the forest and live in it!" she suggests excitedly._

_Quinn nods with equal excitement. "And we could have bonfires at night, and we could have marshmallows and hotdogs for every meal," she smiles brightly._

_Santana nods in return. "And we could have pet rabbits and squirrels and ducks..." she trails off suddenly, growing quite sullen as she looks up at the blonde curiously. "Can Brittany come, too?"_

_Quinn nods. "Of course she can! She's a girl. Of course, there will be no boys allowed," she shakes her head. "It has to be a cootie-free home."_

_Santana nods in agreement with a wide smile, "Totally. No boys ever."_

_Quinn smiles sheepishly before leaning over to give the Latina a quick peck on the cheek. When she pulls away she looks down at Toby with a slight blush. "You're the best, S."_

_Santana feels a bit of a flutter in her stomach and reaches out to take one of the blonde's hands into her own. "You too, Q," she smiles._

_Quinn settles her head back onto Santana's shoulder and they just sit, watching the sun set over the lake until well after it's retreated beneath the horizon._

They stayed at the secret spot until well after Santana's 8pm curfew that night before heading home so that Santana could pitch their seemingly Nobel-worthy escape plan to her parents. Of course, her parents immediately put the kibosh on the girls' plan, but they did let Quinn stay a few nights while things calmed down at the Fabray household.

As Santana snaps back to reality, and to the girl currently in front of her, her slightly happy, slightly melancholy memory drifts away and the overwhelming heat of anger kicks back into gear. Right now, looking at the quick-forming bruise on the blonde's face, she wants nothing more than to stomp up to the large house, ring the doorbell, and punch pompous, whiskey-soaked Russell Fabray right in his fucking hate-spewing mouth.

Quinn silently enters the vehicle, resting the bag on her lap before looking over with vacant eyes. "Let's get out of here before he notices I'm gone."

Santana just nods wordlessly and sets to driving.

The drive is short, and in less than ten minutes―two of those minutes spent waiting for the slowest pedestrian in the history of the world to cross the street, drawing some pronounced honking of the horn and Spanish obscenities―Santana is pulling back into her own driveway. The pair enter the house and Quinn just shrugs off her jacket before heading into the living room. Santana picks up and hangs the girl's jacket before heading off to the kitchen to get a glass of water for her.

When she returns to the living room, Quinn is lying in the foetal position on the couch, hugging a pillow tightly. Santana sighs as she watches the girl from her position in the doorway, the flood of similar memories running through her mind nearly overwhelming. She runs a hand over her hair, wondering what the fuck―if anything―she can do to make the situation any better. She swallows heavily before walking in, and she sets the glass of water down on the coffee table in front of the blonde, in her line of sight, before settling on the couch at her feet.

Quinn stares at the glass for a few moments before clearing her throat. "I need a drink."

Santana arches an eyebrow and looks over the girl. "Water's on the table."

"No," the blonde clarifies abruptly without shifting. "A _real_ drink."

Santana continues staring pointedly at the girl for a moment before releasing a deep sigh and reluctantly rising to her feet. She heads back to the kitchen and grabs the near-empty bottle of vodka she has from the cupboard before heading to the living room once more. She places the bottle down on the coffee table next to the glass of water, not even thinking about taking a drink herself, and this time Quinn sits up abruptly, turning her head towards the Latina as she takes a seat once more.

"That's _it_?" she asks with an eyebrow raised.

Santana shrugs. "We kind of depleted my supply last weekend."

The blonde groans before reaching out for the bottle and uncapping it.

Santana sighs as she sinks back into the couch, raising a hand to her still-hot forehead. "Your dad makes me so fucking angry."

Quinn nods and waves a hand out in agreement. "Preaching to the fucking choir," she says simply before taking a long swig from the bottle.

The Latina just shakes her head and turns towards the blonde with a bit of an incredulous look. "I honked at a blind kid."

Quinn laughs, really _laughs_, almost choking on her half-swallowed mouthful vodka as she does. She coughs it down before looking at the Latina with a smile―the first smile Santana's seen cross her lips so far. "I think it was justifiable. He was moving pretty fucking slow," the girl shrugs before drinking the last bit of vodka from the bottle and placing it down on the table.

Santana chuckles and shakes her head, stretching her legs out to rest them on the coffee table, and Quinn shifts, settling her head onto the Latina's lap. Santana starts brushing her hands through the blonde's hair almost automatically, and she can see that the girl's eyes are starting to water. She knows better than to call her out on it, but she does feel the need to say _something_.

"It's gonna be ok, Q. Your mom's smarter than that, there's no way she'll take him back," she assures the girl softly as she continues to comb her fingers through the girl's golden mane.

Quinn scoffs lightly, looking up pointedly. "Except she did last time... _and_ the time before that... and the time before _that_..."

Santana silently groans, wishing she could somehow make this all go away but at the same time knowing it's entirely impossible. She drops her head back to rest on the top of the couch to stare at the ceiling and a silence spreads over the room for a few long moments before she speaks again.

"We never ran away, you know," she breathes out softly, lifting her head back up to chance a glance down at the girl in her lap.

Quinn's eyes slowly open as her brow furrows in confusion for a moment before it hits her. "Oh my god, the treehouse," she voices softly in realization, a sad smile playing on her lips.

Santana just nods encouragingly with a slight smile.

"And you gave me Toby!" the blonde remarks in disbelief, raising a hand to her forehead as the memory enters her mind.

The Latina just nods again. "You know, you were the first girl who ever kissed me," she informs the girl with a bit of a smile and an arched eyebrow.

Quinn laughs and shakes her head before looking up with a bit of a grin. "Shit, I turned you gay at seven years old," she chuckles once more.

Santana laughs through a scoff, "Don't flatter yourself, Q. Besides, who says I'm gay?"

The blonde just drops her brow and narrows her gaze.

The Latina's brow furrows. "What, you think I'm _gay_ just because I'm dating Rachel?"

Quinn just shoots an unimpressed stare, "And possibly also the sleeping with B?"

Santana scoffs, "And how about the fact that I sleep with Puck, too?"

The ex-cheerio arches a questioning eyebrow.

The Latina rolls her eyes. "Well not _lately_," she amends, though she feels it should be entirely obvious.

Quinn doesn't want to let it go, though, her eyebrow staying arched. "And what about those other cheerios?"

A small but telling smirk crosses Santana's lips briefly. "I don't have a single idea what you're talking about."

The blonde's brow furrows again as she narrows her gaze, pointing a finger up at the Latina. "Don't think I don't know what went on in those showers. There's a _reason_ I never showered in the locker room."

Santana's mouth splits into an absolute grin as she chuckles, some pretty fond memories infiltrating her mind. She only snaps back into reality when her phone vibrates against her thigh. The vibration rattles through the blonde's head and she lifts up temporarily as Santana reaches into her pocket to grab the device. The Latina looks to see she has a text from Rachel, and reading it makes her smile.

'So... I had a thought. Given our new policy of honesty with my fathers, you should probably get to know them a little better. Do you want to join us for Sunday dinner?'

Quinn arches an eyebrow at the Latina's smile, "Rachel?"

Santana just nods, turning her attention to the girl on her lap. "You haven't had dinner yet, have you?"

The blonde shakes her head. "I'm not even remotely hungry, though."

She types while the girl is talking, 'Where?' before looking down with a furrowed brow.

"You need to fucking eat, Q."

Quinn groans and rolls her eyes, and a response from Rachel comes in.

'Breadstix ;P'

Santana chuckles lightly. 'Two nights in a row, huh? :P' she taps out before looking at the blonde again.

"I call you 'fatty' just for fun, you know. In all actuality, you look like you could use a fucking truckload of Big Macs, Fabray."

Quinn groans again and raises an arm, letting it fall to rest over her eyes. "Fine, whatever," she breathes out exhaustedly.

A response from Rachel comes in, 'So... Is that a yes?'

Santana taps her thumb on the side of her phone for a few moments in thought before looking down at the blonde on her lap, chewing her lip in uncertainty. "How would you feel about potentially going out for dinner with Rachel and her dads?"

Quinn slowly slides her arm up to her forehead to reveal wide eyes. "You're fucking joking, right?" she huffs.

The Latina smiles somewhat dejectedly, and Quinn rolls her eyes before elaborating.

"Ok, (a) her dads probably fucking hate me; (b) me and Rachel aren't all that close so it's likely it would be the most awkward dinner ever, even _without_ her dads there; and, (c) have you _looked_ at me? I'm a fucking mess," the blonde slightly chuckles and shakes her head. "The last thing I want to do is go out in public right now."

Santana nods in understanding, though her overall expression doesn't shift. She actually finds herself feeling bad as she taps out a response. 'Not this time, but thanks for the invite. ;)'

A quick response comes in. 'Ok..?'

'Q's here...' she taps out, but she doesn't send it yet, instead looking down at the blonde once more.

"How much do you want me to tell her about why you're here?"

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut and exhales audibly before looking up at the Latina's eyes. "Whatever you want, I guess."

Santana nods before taking to tapping again, adding to the bit she already has down. 'Her dad's back and it's just a bad scene at her house right now, so she's staying here.'

'Oh no, is she alright?'

Santana smiles at the diva's concern. 'She will be. She just needs a break.'

'Ok. Then I guess I'll just see you in school tomorrow?'

'Of course. Have a nice dinner :)'

'Have a good night :) xoxo'

Santana smiles once more before putting her phone down on the side table and turning her attention back to the girl on her lap. "Ok, so, food. We could order something...?" she trails off with an eyebrow raised.

Quinn scoffs slightly. "You're really not gonna let this go, are you?" she deadpans before, in an ultimate act of betrayal, her stomach growls audibly, cutting through the silence in the empty room.

The Latina shakes her head with a bit of a grin. "Not a fucking chance, Fabray. And you _know_ how stubborn I can be," she adds as a final, definitive point.

The blonde groans, lifting a hand to her forehead. "Ugh, fine," she pauses for a moment, seemingly in thought. "Does anyone deliver bacon?" she cedes slightly.

The Latina furrows her brow in thought, seriously considering the question. "Well..." she trails off, raising a hand to scratch her head, mentally running through every delivery place she can think of. "We could order KFC and get you a sandwich that has bacon on it?"

Quinn nods pronouncedly. "Bacon good."

Santana laughs slightly, leaning down a bit to pat the blonde's cheek condescendingly. "Grammar also good," she teases.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Whatever," she breathes out, but it's with a bit of a smile, and it makes Santana smile too.

* * *

The pair do order and eat food, Santana keeping a close eye to make sure that Quinn eats her _entire_ meal, while watching movies. Horror was not on the table, the blonde preferring something a little more light-hearted under the circumstances. After a marathon of 'Holy Grail', 'Life of Brian', and 'The Meaning of Life'―Monty Python films being a particular favourite for both of the girls―it's past 11pm, and, much to Santana's delight, the depressed blonde has spent a good portion of the night laughing and reciting lines along with the movies.

As soon as the tv is off and the room falls silent, though, Quinn's mood seems to shift again. Santana sighs as she looks over at the blonde, who is staring blankly ahead.

"Come on, Q," she offers a hand. "Let's go get you set up."

Quinn doesn't take her hand, but does follow her out in the hallway, where Santana grabs the duffle bag and slings it over her shoulder before leading the blonde upstairs and into her room. The blonde plops down on the bed and Santana puts the bag down next to her, opening it and handing her some sleep clothes, which she reluctantly accepts.

The blonde just starts to strip, her sense of modesty having left the building along with her laughter. Santana turns her back and takes a few steps, crossing her arms in front of her body, not wanting to perv on one of her oldest friends. Quinn just watches in amusement, slightly chuckling as she pulls on a nightshirt.

"It's not like I'm getting buck naked over here, S," she teases softly as she stands to tug off her jeans.

Santana rolls her eyes but doesn't turn around. "Doesn't make a difference, Q, don't need to see it."

Quinn furrows her brow, staring discriminatingly at the Latina's back. "You've seen me in a lesser state of dress in the locker room a million times but _now_ you're all bashful?" she chuckles again with a slight shake of her head. "Worried it'll turn you on?" she inquires smugly as she pulls on a pair of running shorts.

This time Santana scoffs a laugh. Any other day she would immediately fire back with a comment about the unattractiveness of stretch marks, but given the events of the day, she decides to let it slide. "You know, usually I just write stuff off as you being you―as strange as you fucking are―but sometimes I think you're full-on delusional."

Quinn just rolls her eyes as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed once more. "Ok pervy, you can turn around now. I'm fully clothed."

Santana does turn with a bit of a smile. She takes Quinn's bag and sets it on her desk, gesturing for the blonde to get under the covers as she does. She drops the blinds and turns to head towards the door. She stretches a hand out to hit the lights, but the blonde's voice stops her.

"San," she breathes out, a bit of embarrassment plainly evident in her voice. "Could you just... could you stay for a little while?"

If it were even a month ago, she probably would have just scoffed and left the room, storing away the blonde's vulnerability for future ammunition; however, now she just sighs softly before turning around with a soft smile and nodding.

She lifts the covers and carefully slides in behind the blonde, wrapping an arm around her torso, pulling the girl tight against her own body. Quinn starts to cry softly, and Santana reaches her other hand up to brush it through the blonde's hair.

"Shh, shh, it's ok, I'm here," she coos softly.

"I just," the blonde breathes out, her uneven breathing affecting her speech. "I just thought he'd stay away this time, you know?"

Santana sighs into the girl's neck. "I know." And she does. She's seen enough of what Russell Fabray does to Quinn, both emotionally and physically, that it's fairly obvious that the only thing the girl has ever hoped for is that the asshole would disappear for good. "I could, you know, _take care of him_, mob-style if you want..?" she slightly smirks.

The girl chuckles in her arms. "Promise?"

"Fuck yeah," Santana replies softly. "I'll totally go all 'Godfather' on his ass."

Quinn lightly chuckles through a yawn. "Awesome," she pushes out softly as she starts to drift off.

Within minutes the blonde's breathing evens out and Santana is almost sure she's fallen asleep, but she stays an extra ten minutes to be sure, knowing from experience that the first night is always the worst. When she's convinced that the girl is down for the count, she slowly and silently climbs out of the bed, turning off the lights and closing the door quietly behind her as she leaves.

* * *

**Next chapter should be ready to go by Monday :) I'm hoping I can get back into my normal publishing schedule despite exams and all that shittiness.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Previously, on IYH:**

"Well, what about if we just did 'White Christmas'? We can slightly alter the Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney version to fit our vocals?" Rachel suggests with a raised brow.

The Latina smiles and nods, "I like that."

* * *

Santana wakes to her alarm Monday morning with a yawn. She stretches out before climbing out of bed and heading next door to wake Quinn. She knocks lightly on the door, but gains no response. She shakes her head with a bit of a grin before she knocks a little more firmly, able to hear the blonde's groan all the way through the door.

"What?" the tired whine comes.

Santana chuckles and cracks the door open enough to stick her head in. All she can see is a sleeping form hidden completely beneath blankets. "Wake up time if you wanna shower before school, Q," she informs the girl. "I'm gonna go shower downstairs, so the upstairs washroom is all yours," she smiles.

Quinn rolls over and pulls the covers off of her face with a bit of a tired smile. "Thanks, S."

Santana can tell from the blonde's pointed stare that she's thanking her for more than just the use of the upstairs shower, and she just nods in response. "No worries, Q. Now get your fat ass up," she smirks before turning to head towards her own destination, not needing to look back to know the blonde is rolling her eyes.

Both girls have quick showers and some breakfast before heading off to school. They make it on time and both head off to their respective lockers. Santana's just closing her locker door when an annoyingly familiar voice comes by way of a bullhorn.

"LOPEZ!" Sue Sylvester's growl cuts through the crowded hallway. Santana groans and drops her forehead to rest on the locker before chancing a glance down the hall in the direction of the sound. As expected, the freakishly tall, lanky woman is standing like a statue in her signature red tracksuit, brow furrowed and the horn raised to her mouth. "My office, now!" she instructs firmly before turning towards a passing student, still speaking through the horn. "And you! Winter is _not_ a valid excuse to wear that much plaid! You look like a lumber-_jackass_."

Santana slightly chuckles at the insult before fastening her lock and heading towards the decidedly crazy woman's office. Sue waves her in just as the warning bell rings. "Becky, hold my calls," she instructs her assistant.

"You got it, Coach!" the small blonde replies with a firm nod and a thumbs up.

Sue directs the Latina further into the office, closing the glass door behind them before gesturing to a chair. "Have a seat, funbags."

Santana just rolls her eyes as she takes the seat, so used to Sue's barbs that they've become completely ineffectual. "What is it? I've got class," she inquires exhaustedly, never having been fond of their little one-on-ones.

"Well, there's really no easy way to say this," the older woman starts with a sigh, taking off her glasses and putting them down on the desk before reclining back into her chair. A bit of an apologetic smile creeps across the woman's lips and a glint of something―_Maybe even compassion?_―crosses her eyes. It's the most humanlike facial expression Santana has probably ever seen on the woman's face, and it's completely unnerving because she knows that if _Sue Sylvester_ is feeling bad, something really shitty is about to go down. "I'm gonna need you to hand in your uniform by the end of the day."

Santana's eyes go wide, her eyebrows threatening to meet her hairline. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"You're out kid," she elaborates. "Both of the closet and of the Cheerios."

Santana's brow drops and she narrows her gaze. "I can't be a cheerio because I'm dating a girl?" she questions in complete confusion.

Sue sighs. "Look sandbags, I personally have no problem with you going through your little Anne Heche phase, but the fact is my boosters don't like the idea of a clam-jammer leading the Cheerios."

Santana shakes her head slightly, eyes shifting around in disbelief, half convinced this is just a dream that she hasn't woken up from yet. When she's unable to wake herself, though, she looks over at the older woman again, completely incredulous. "So you're gonna kick me off the squad altogether?"

She shrugs, "Sorry, S. As much as I'd love to see if those floatation devices under your shirt could buoyantly raise us to victory, it's the safest move. We've got Nationals coming up, and with the advent of Bieste and her jolly band of mouth-breathers, I can't afford to give up any more of my budget."

The Latina raises a hand to her forehead, _I can't believe this_. "I can't believe this..." she echoes aloud, still partially convinced that she's being punk'd or something.

Sue just shakes her head gravely. "You know I've already lost two confetti canons? _Two_!" she scoffs in disbelief.

Santana just shakes her head again before looking up with her brow furrowed. "So... you're _serious_?"

Sue shakes her head. "I _never_ joke about confetti canons," she says evenly.

The Latina just laughs in slight disbelief, letting her hand slide down to her chin, completely unable to compute what is happening.

"Look kid, I'll tell you what," the woman starts, growing tender once more as she leans forward in her chair. "You just let me know when you're done Lindsay Lohan-ing with that gleetard, and you're right back on top of the pyramid."

With that said Sue replaces her glasses on the bridge of her nose and turns her attention to some paperwork on her desk. "We're done here," she says absently, gesturing a hand for the Latina to leave.

It's mere moments later when Santana emerges into the hallway, in a complete daze as she slowly walks in the general direction of Spanish. This is it. This is the last time she'll be walking through these halls in the bulletproof shield that is her cheerios uniform. As of tomorrow, she's fair game; she's part of the pecking order―and not the part she wants to be. For the first time in her two and a half years at William McKinley, she feels tiny; she feels insignificant; she feels like a scared little girl hiding in a costume, and she doesn't like it. She doesn't like it at all.

She eventually reaches class, albeit a few minutes late, and she doesn't bother to think up an excuse when Mr. Schue asks for a reason. She just ignores the man who watches with a wary eye as she drones her way to the back of the class to take her seat.

"Hey S," Brittany greets excitedly, waving a hand.

Santana drops unceremoniously into her chair, just letting her bag slide off of her shoulder and down to the ground. "Hey B," she greets absently, reflexively, as she stares blankly ahead.

She sits through about five minutes of a Schue-led Spanish version of 'hangman', in an alternate reality of sorts, before there's a knock at the door that jolts her back into the real world.

"Quinn?" Schue questions curiously as he waves the blonde into the room.

"Sorry to disturb your class, Mr. Schue, but I was wondering if I could borrow Santana..." she trails off, chancing an apologetic glance over at the Latina―a glance that makes Santana immediately shift in her seat, knowing something must be seriously wrong. "It's kind of an emergency," the blonde footnotes, turning back towards the teacher at the front of the room pleadingly.

Santana starts to internally panic as her mind runs though all the things that could possibly be happening. She briefly looks over to Brittany, who is looking at her in concern.

Schue raises a curious eyebrow, but just nods before turning towards the Latina. "Ok Santana, go ahead."

Santana immediately rises and rushes out into the hallway after the blonde.

"Come on," Quinn says simply as she starts to walk, waving for the Latina to follow her.

"What the fuck is going on, Q?" Santana questions seriously as she keeps pace, the blonde having done nothing so far to calm her internal freak out.

Quinn glances over with another apologetic expression as she keeps walking. "Rachel got slushied this morning."

Santana's face drops and she immediately stops walking, balling her fists at her sides as her blood starts to run a little hotter. "Who," she pushes out coarsely, it being more of a demand than a question.

Quinn stops walking and turns around to face the girl, her face twisting in sympathy. "A couple baby cheerios."

Santana just nods in understanding. "Ok. _Now_ it's fucking on," she says firmly, more for her own benefit than for Quinn's.

It's not long before they reach the single-serve bathroom in the back hallway where Rachel has locked herself in.

"You good here by yourself?" Quinn asks simply, shifting the bag on her shoulder. "I gotta get to class, I'm hella late as it is."

Santana just nods. "Thanks for coming to get me, Q."

"No worries, S..." she trails off, not quite sure what to say given the situation. "Good luck, I guess," she shrugs awkwardly. The Latina just nods and Quinn takes it as her cue to head off.

Santana takes a deep breath and releases it as a sigh before she knocks on the door. "Rach? It's me," she says softly, leaning an ear against the door to see if she can hear anything from the inside.

She hears some rustling, soon followed by the hollow sound of the lock shifting. She steps slightly back from the door, which opens to reveal a completely soaked through diva. She's obviously cleaned herself off with tap water, her hair dripping wet and the stained red slush on her white shirt starting to run further down the ruined fabric. Her eyes are red and her face is red to match―neither of those due to the slushie―and, as soon as her eyes meet Santana's, tears start to fall again.

Santana's gut is telling her to run, her sympathetic nervous system really trying to push through the flight response, but as she looks into Rachel's wounded eyes, something inside of her switches again. All the rage and any instinctual hesitance is gone and she once again finds that all she wants to do is make this girl feel better. She steps into the sizeable room, pushing the diva gently back in with her before closing and locking the door behind them. As soon as the door is secured, she takes the half step that separates their bodies and pulls Rachel into an incredibly tight hug, wrapping her arms around the short girl's shoulders, reaching a hand up to tangle in the back of the diva's wet hair and massage her scalp―now knowing that the action seems to calm the girl.

"It's ok," she coos softly, pulling Rachel's head onto her shoulder, whispering reassuring words every so often. "I've got you... you're safe now... I'll protect you," she reminds softly, though she slams her eyes shut as she realizes that she _just _failed to protect the girl. "And I'm gonna murder whoever the fuck did this," she mumbles out unconsciously, drawing a bit of a teary chuckle from the diva. She rocks the girl gently back and forth in her arms, feeling occasional tears hit the exposed skin of her shoulder. She sighs, part of her wondering when she became everyone's emotional dumping ground, but she quickly shakes the thought. If this is what she needs to do to be a good friend, to be a good _girlfriend_, then this is what she's going to do. She can stand the tears if it means the good times that come along with them.

She stiffens slightly as she realizes that her uniform is definitely going to have some slushie transfer on it from the diva's top, but she quickly relaxes again. _Who the fuck cares, it's not mine anymore, anyway._

Santana grows tired of standing after a little while and takes a half step back, taking the diva's hands into her own. She leans in to kiss her tenderly, just to let her know she's there, before leaning her back against the door and sliding down to take a seat on the ground. She lightly tugs the diva's hand to join her, and Rachel settles down next to her, immediately dropping her head onto the Latina's shoulder.

Santana reflexively wraps an arm around the diva, holding her tight. "Hey," she smiles softly, looking over to the girl with kind eyes. "I'm here," she reiterates.

Rachel tries to sniff back her tears as she looks up at the Latina.

Santana notices and just lightly shakes her head. "Rachel, it's ok, you can cry."

"I-I," the diva starts, struggling to speak through the tears. "I just don't understand why people have to be so... have to be such..."

"Assholes?" Santana fills in the blanks with a bit of a smirk.

Rachel chuckles lightly and nods against the Latina's shoulder.

Santana releases a bit of a sigh, carefully considering her words. "Rachel, some people are gonna try to tear you down... I'm sure some people even think you're not good enough. Those people are what I like to call _wrong_." The diva chuckles softly. "You know they're just jealous, right?" Rachel scoffs with a roll of her eyes, the words just sounding so cliché. Santana reaches her free hand out to run it along the diva's cheek, gently turning her head and drawing the girl's eyes back to her own. "I'm serious. Those girls know they're never leaving this place. They know they're just gonna shack up with local boys, get married, and pop out babies. They're going to live the life that is expected of girls in this shithole town. But _you_? You've got something they could never even hope to have: talent. You've got drive. You're gonna get the fuck out of here and _do_ something with your life. They know it, and it kills them. Nothing would make them happier than to break you down enough that you stay here and become another Lima loser, and you know why?" The diva shakes her head, her eyes wide. "Because it would validate _their_ sad little lives."

Rachel is looking up at the girl in absolute amazement, with a heavy blush and a soft smile. "You know, you're a lot smarter than people give you credit for... a lot smarter than _I_ ever gave you credit for..." she trails off with a hint of guilt.

Santana smirks with a bit of a shrug. "Well, I _am_ in AP physics." Rachel just rolls her eyes, and Santana squeezes her shoulder again. "Seriously, though? High school doesn't last forever. Just count down the days, because you know as well as I do that as soon as that countdown is over, you're gonna blow this popsicle stand and prove every single one of those vindictive little bitches wrong."

Rachel just shakes her head again in awe, reaching a hand up to lightly grasp the Latina's chin, pulling her down to close the small gap between them and letting their lips lightly brush together. "You're amazing, do you know that?"

Santana scoffs playfully, "Well obviously. What do you think I've been trying to tell everyone all these years?" she winks.

Rachel chuckles and slaps the cheerleader's shoulder lightly before settling her head back onto it and Santana wraps both arms around the diva, pulling her in close, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. They stay in the embrace for a few minutes before Rachel breaks the silence.

"What about you?"

The Latina raises a curious eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

The diva lifts her head to look into Santana's eyes. "Well, you're obviously smart enough to get out of here... _and_ you've got cheerios... so, what about you?"

Santana worries a lip between her teeth and looks down at her uniform for a moment―which, for the record, _does _have a bit of a stain, a fact that actually makes her smile briefly―wondering if she should say anything at all about _that_ whole situation. She quickly decides it's not the time, her cheerios uniform effectively disguising her right now, anyway. She sighs heavily, looking back over to the diva.

"I honestly don't know. I mean, yeah, if everything stays the same and if I ace my SATs then I shouldn't have any trouble getting into college, I guess..." she trails off, furrowing her brow in thought. "But I'm not sure if that's what I want."

Rachel raises a curious eyebrow. "What _do_ you want?"

The Latina chuckles and shakes her head. "I have no fucking clue."

Rachel smiles softly. "Well, there's still plenty of time to figure it out," she reassures the Latina, leaning up to give her another kiss before settling back onto her shoulder and releasing a content sigh.

Santana smirks slightly. "You know, we really have to stop meeting up in bathrooms... it's bordering on awkward."

The diva chuckles and rolls her eyes.

Santana just arches an eyebrow as she looks over the diva. "Also, you need to stop wearing white."

Rachel lifts her head and arches an eyebrow in return.

A bit of a grin spreads across the Latina's lips. "As much as I enjoy this whole see-through situation we've got going on here," she circles an open hand over the diva's chest in indication. "You seem to only get slushied when you're wearing white."

Rachel looks down at her shirt, seemingly for the first time. "I don't have anything to change into..." she muses aloud.

Santana purses her lips in thought for a moment before pulling away from the diva, who looks over with her brow furrowed. The Latina just reaches down and pulls off her cheerios top, leaving herself in her bra, before handing the top to Rachel. "Here you go."

Rachel's eyes widen. "Wha... I mean... uhh..." she swallows a recently formed lump in her throat as she stares at the Latina's torso, seemingly unable to look away.

Santana just smirks, noticing the diva's lack of focus, (or very _fine_ focus, depending on which way you look at it) before shifting, rising to her knees and moving to straddle the diva's outstretched legs.

Rachel plays with the fabric of the top with her thumbs for a moment before looking up with an arched eyebrow. "Aren't you going to get in trouble if I'm wearing your cheerios top?"

Santana just scoffs. "Trust me, that is the _last_ thing I'm concerned about right now."

It's the truth. Part of her is handing the top over because she doesn't want Rachel to have to go through the embarrassment of walking through the halls in her soiled shirt (or her bra, for that matter); however, another slightly larger (and slightly smirking) part of her wants to see the absolute twisting grimace on Sue Sylvester's face when she catches a glimpse of Rachel-fucking-Berry in a cheerios top―because, really, even if Santana's been kind of soft as of late, _Payback is still fucking awesome... _and, in this case, entirely necessary.

Santana sits back on her heels and reaches her hands out to start slowly unbuttoning the diva's blouse from the collar downwards. Rachel drops her hands to her sides and watches the journey of the Latina's hands, her breathing growing progressively less even as more and more of her own skin starts to be exposed and she feels the Latina's fingers―accidentally or not―brush against her bare skin repeatedly.

With the shift in the diva's breathing as well as the mere action of unbuttoning her top―the slight snap of each individual button released being surprisingly audible in the large room―Santana's own heart rate increases, her eyes never leaving the ever-lengthening expanse of skin in front of her. Once the last button is undone, she ghosts her hands up the diva's torso, letting her fingers tiptoe along the girl's clavicles, sliding her hands over the diva's shoulders and taking the top with her. Her breath hitches slightly when the top falls completely off, and she looks up to see remarkable darkness in the eyes in front of her own.

They hold each other's stare for a few long moments, both girls starting to breathe a little heavier than should be the case. It's Rachel who breaks the armistice, reaching a hand out to grab the Latina's neck firmly and pulling her in for a crushing kiss.

Their teeth clank together in their over-eagerness and it's definitely not the most graceful kiss they've ever shared, but Rachel quickly apologizes by running her tongue gently over Santana's upper teeth. Her other hand rises up to cup the Latina's cheek, and Santana lets her own hands drift lazily around the diva's midsection, the diva's bare skin feeling like fire against her fingertips, sending electric charges directly to her centre. But, despite their mutual enthusiasm and Santana's ever increasing heart rate, the Latina soon breaks the embrace, keeping in mind that they're in school at the moment.

She sighs as she pulls back, dropping her head to rest on the diva's, running her hands gently along Rachel's, surprisingly, jean-clad thighs. She continues the motion as she speaks. "You're wearing jeans," she observes aloud in a bit of shock, licking her lips unconsciously.

"Yeah," the diva breathes out, barely above a whisper.

Santana's eyes stay fixed on the diva's thighs as she lets her hands knead the skin gently through the denim barrier. Suddenly a smirk crosses her face and she halts the motion, letting her hands rest flat against the jeans while looking up at the girl with an eyebrow raised. "Did you get them on sale?"

The diva furrows her brow, chancing a glance down at the pants in question before looking back up in uncertainty. "Why..?"

The Latina's face splits into a wide grin, "Because at my house they'd be one hundred percent off." She raises her eyebrows suggestively and runs her hands up and around to grab the girl's ass, pulling her in closer in emphasis.

Rachel scoffs a chuckle before closing the small gap to kiss the Latina softly once more, letting her arms drift around the cheerleader's neck. "We should probably get dressed..." she trails off as she pulls back, wearing an arched eyebrow and a bit of an apologetic smile.

"Well, _you_ get dressed," Santana smiles as she retrieves the cheerios top from the ground and hands it back to the diva. "Looks like I'll be walking to the locker room in my bra anyway," she gestures her arm to the soiled button-down pooled on the ground behind diva.

Rachel looks incredibly unimpressed at the prospect. "No way," she says firmly with a shake of her head.

The Latina arches an eyebrow and slightly huffs her disbelief, "And why not?"

Rachel's expression is as serious as a heart attack, and when she speaks, Santana's almost convinced she might _have_ one. The diva leans in close again, grabbing the Latina by the bra strap to pull her so that their lips are millimetres apart, their noses actually touching. She runs a finger lazily down the cheerleader's chest, through her cleavage, and down to her abs, circling her finger around the Latina's bellybutton as she speaks gruffly. "No one gets to see this except for me," she says concretely, chancing a quick glance down the cheerleader's body before letting their eyes meet once more. "Ok?"

Santana's eyes widen and her jaw drops slightly, but she can't seem to find anything resembling a coherent thought in her head, finding herself more than slightly turned on by Rachel's sudden possessiveness. She just nods firmly, fully aware of and not giving a shit about how ridiculous she must look doing so with her mouth still hanging open.

Rachel smiles somewhat smugly, "Well, good."

Santana wants to move, but she feels stuck in place and she's holding her hands beside the diva's body rather than risking actually touching at this point.

The diva arches an eyebrow, "Don't you have to get back to class?" Santana just nods without changing her expression, and Rachel chuckles again before reaching her hands around to squeeze the Latina's ass.

Santana lightly squeaks, and she knows a blush has crept across her lips at the sound and that her eyes have darkened at the feel. "You know, that's just about the last thing that's gonna help me leave..." she pushes out, now balling her fists at the diva's sides, suddenly finding it near-impossible to keep her hands to herself.

Rachel rolls her eyes. "So, what would get you going then? Perhaps a slap across the face?"

The Latina smirks and arches an eyebrow, "I don't know... I think I could be into that."

Rachel chuckles and lightly pushes Santana back by her shoulders. "It'd be imprudent for you to miss your entire class because of this little incident."

Santana rolls her eyes and sighs as she reluctantly rises to her feet, offering the diva a hand to get up. Rachel moves to the other side of the room and Santana leans down to get the soiled top, pulling it around her shoulders, just holding it shut around her torso rather than buttoning it. She looks over with a raised eyebrow, "Good enough?"

The diva nods. "I suppose that will have to do until you find something more suitable."

The Latina rolls her eyes once more, but they widen as Rachel pulls on the cheerios top, which seems to mould to her body like a glove―every curve, the swell of her breasts. Santana's relatively sure that the top looks better on Rachel than it does on her, and it's most certainly not making her jealous, but it is making her feel inexplicably warm. Santana quickly tries to figure out some way, _any_ way that she could just keep the uniform for future, ahem, physical activities involving the girl wearing it at the moment. She abruptly shakes her head again in silent reprimand, though, wondering when she turned into such a walking hard-on.

"How do I look?" the diva voices.

Santana can't help the gruff that intrudes on her voice, "Really good."

Rachel smiles knowingly and shakes her head slightly. "You have the self control of a teenage boy."

Santana nods and starts to approach the diva again. "Maybe, but I am _far _more intellectually, romantically, and, most importantly, _sexually_ gifted," she explains with a seductive smile and an arched eyebrow, running her fingers along the collar of the diva's borrowed top.

Now it's Rachel's turn to blush, the diva's looking down in slight embarrassment causing Santana to chuckle. "That's what I thought," she says playfully, tapping the diva's nose with her index finger.

They soon head out from their little cave into the near-deserted hallway, Rachel heading off to the choir room as per usual and Santana heading off to the cheerios' locker room to grab a shirt to change into―a WMHS track shirt rather than a cheerleading shirt, because, really, just no. She ultimately decides to throw out Rachel's destroyed top, but makes a note to buy the girl a new one at some point in the near future.

By the time she makes it back to Spanish, class is pretty much over―though it's not like it was the most educationally crucial class of the semester anyway. When the bell rings, she just waves bye to Brittany and heads off to English.

As soon as she enters the room, Quinn looks up from her seat with a questioning eyebrow arched. "Where's your cheerios top?"

Santana grins wide as she slides into her seat, "Gave it to Rachel to wear."

The blonde's jaw drops almost to the floor. "Sue's gonna _kill_ you."

The Latina scoffs, "She can't do a fucking thing to me now, Q."

Quinn's eyebrow lifts. "She could kick you off the squad..? She's kicked people out for _far_ lesser offenses."

Santana laughs slightly with a shake of her head. "Yeah, see, that'd only be an issue if I was still _on_ the squad."

The blonde's brow furrows completely and her voice gets softer. "You quit?"

"Nope," the Latina shakes her head. "She kicked me off."

Quinn's brow furrows impossibly further. "For _what_?" she asks incredulously.

"Rachel," Santana replies flippantly, shifting to lean her head on her hand.

Quinn's eyes go wide and something flickers across her pupils, something that Santana knows oh so well: rage. She stays silent in shock for a few moments. "There's no way that's legal..." she trails off.

The Latina just shrugs, "Whatever," as their teacher enters the class.

Quinn grows softer again, "I'm serious, S. This is, like, the kind of thing you take legal action about. You could totally nail Sylvester to the wall once and for all!" she says with a bit more excitement than she had intended, some of her own residual distaste for her former coach perhaps seeping in.

Santana groans and rolls her eyes. "Just let it go, Q," she says exhaustedly, shifting her hand to her forehead. "Besides, the satisfaction of Sue seeing Rach in a cheerios top is more than enough for me."

The blonde lightly chuckles as the bell rings for the beginning of class. "Well, I'll tell you one thing, I'd _love_ to see that."

* * *

Class passes by in a game of 'Heads Up, Seven Up' and the majority of lunch passes by uneventfully in the choir room. The pair eat lunch before ending up at the piano―Rachel seated on the bench and Santana leaning against the side of the large instrument as they try to work out their 'White Christmas' arrangement.

"Rachel," Santana groans exhaustedly, raising a hand to her forehead, considering tossing the sheet music right off of the piano. "I get it, ok? You're an awesome singer and you want to sing, like, five thousand different notes, but that's not the song."

The diva rolls her eyes and huffs as she crosses her arms. "Santana," she says in that overly naggy way that makes the Latina roll her own eyes. "The assembly is tomorrow. _Tomorrow_!" she repeats in emphasis, her eyes wide. "We don't have anything close to a workable arrangement done. I just need to figure out how to play this and then we can work out our vocal arrangement."

Santana lets her hand run down her face. "For fuck's sake," she mumbles out as she walks over, nudging the diva so that she can take a seat on the bench next to her. "Where's the actual piano arrangement?"

Rachel arches an eyebrow before she shuffles through the collection of papers on the stand, spreading the three sheets out across the instrument. She watches with a discerning eye as Santana eyes the music for a moment and cracks her knuckles. The Latina ghosts her hands over the piano keys and seems to count out the beat in her head before she starts to play the music as written.

Rachel's jaw drops and she slaps the Latina's shoulder―a little harder than necessary, by Santana's standards―as she stands from the bench.

"What the fuck, Rach?" the Latina questions, looking up in complete confusion.

"You ass! You never told me you could play the piano, too!" she chides with a frown.

Santana just shrugs and slightly shakes her head. "You never asked..."

Rachel rolls her eyes before looking at the Latina pointedly. "You really _are _some sort of musical savant, aren't you?"

Santana furrows her brow and looks at the sheet music for a moment before looking at the diva. "Ok, if we're talking savantism, you realize you just essentially called me retarded, right?"

The diva shrugs with a small smile, "I just call 'em like I see 'em."

Santana's jaw slightly drops as she stands to walk to the opposite side of the large instrument. "Oh really?" The diva nods, and Santana turns to face the girl with an absolute grin. "Well, at least _I_ don't snore."

Rachel's face completely drops and her mouth goes agape as she raises a hand to her chest in offense. "I do _not_ snore!" she protests in disbelief, the accusation so ridiculous that it's making her slightly laugh.

The Latina starts to chuckle, "Except yeah, yeah you do."

Rachel just shakes her head with a playful glare before she starts to chase Santana around the piano, which just causes Santana to laugh even harder. The chase continues for a couple minutes, switching directions every so often, with Rachel not even coming close to catching the Latina, before they end up on opposite sides of the instrument again with Santana still laughing.

Rachel huffs in defeat and puts her hands on her hips. "This isn't even fair," she points at the Latina. "You have a clear genetic advantage in that you're much taller and your legs are longer than my own... I just have no chance at catching up."

Santana smirks, "Darwin would be proud."

The diva rolls her eyes, still eyeing the piano, seemingly trying to figure out a better way to get around it.

Santana points at the instrument, "You know, you could just crawl across the piano... all seductive-like, of course..." she trails off with an arched eyebrow. She pictures it and her eyes glaze over as she starts to hope that the diva will take up her suggestion.

Rachel's brow drops. "Santana, this is a Steinway, one of the finest pianos in the world. There is no way that I would endanger it by using it as some sort of toy or a bridge."

Santana is lost in thought, still thinking about the different things that Rachel could do, preferably with assistance from her, on top of that piano. She shakes her head with a slight chuckle when she finally processes the words spoken. "Please, you weigh like five pounds."

The diva smirks. "Well I suppose it _is_ more likely that your weight would cause it to buckle than my own..." she trails off playfully.

Santana's jaw drops and she shoots a playful glare at the diva, in warning, before starting to chase her around the treasured instrument. It's not long at all before she catches up, grabbing the diva around the waist and spinning them both around so that her own back is against the wall before dragging both of their bodies down to the ground. In their new position, both are sitting with their legs outstretched, Santana with her back against the wall and Rachel with her back against the Latina's front.

Santana smirks behind the diva. "So... there's something I've been wondering ever since the first time we hung out at my mom's house."

Rachel raises an eyebrow despite the fact the cheerleader can't see it. "Oh yeah?" she asks curiously.

"Yeah," the Latina responds, quickly snaking her legs around the diva's torso, effectively locking her into place. "I've been wondering just how ticklish you really are..." she trails off as she reaches her hands out to tickle mercilessly at the diva's sides.

Rachel starts squirming in the Latina's lap and laughing uncontrollably. "Santana! I'm going to pee my pants!"

Santana smiles, but doesn't relent. "Yeah, I don't think that'd be a good look for you... you've already changed once today," she observes thoughtfully.

The diva is still giggling involuntarily as she responds, "I'm serious!"

Santana smirks once more before finally stopping her assault, rather wrapping her arms around the diva's midsection and resting her chin on the girl's shoulder. They sit in silence for a moment before Santana lifts one of her hands to sweep the diva's hair aside and place a soft kiss on the nape of her neck.

The bell rings, though, and Santana groans into the diva's neck, causing the smaller girl to lightly chuckle. "Ugh, I don't even know why we have to have school this week. Every single class we're doing literally _nothing_."

Rachel slightly sighs, "I know what you mean. But, I still like being here when there are all the Christmas decorations up," she points around the room, and Santana notices the (let's be honest) _tacky_ red and green streamers for the first time. "Not to mention, I'm more than looking forward to tomorrow's Christmas assembly."

Santana moves her chin back to the diva's shoulder with a smirk. "So... are we still singing at that thing, then?"

Rachel's jaw drops and she shuffles forward slightly so that she can turn a pointed glare back at the Latina. "I really hope you're kidding."

Santana shrugs. "You said it yourself: we don't have a 'useable arrangement'."

The diva just looks unimpressed. "(A) I said 'workable arrangement'." Santana rolls her eyes. "(B) We are already on the agenda, so we will just have to figure something out."

The Latina groans again, "Fine. Why can't we just sing it the way it is?"

This time Rachel groans, "_Fine_. Whatever. We'll just be overly cliché then."

Santana just smiles in slight victory and pops up to her feet, offering the diva her hand. Rachel stares at the hand and scoffs, lifting up to her feet by herself before walking over to the piano to collect her things. Santana rolls her eyes at the diva's petulance but follows suit―after all they've only got about 5 minutes left before the start of class, and the music kids would be getting there soon.

They reach the door and Santana turns around to face the diva shyly, with an eyebrow raised. "I could walk you to your class..?" she offers softly a hand extended for the diva to take. "If you want, that is," she trails off sheepishly, feeling surprisingly self-conscious.

Rachel blushes heavily and nods. "I think that that would be wonderful," she smiles wide, rising to her tiptoes to kiss the Latina before reaching out to conjoin their fingers.

The pair head out into the hallway and start a slow stroll towards the diva's first afternoon class, their closeness and conjoined hands earning mostly unimpressed stares but also a few shocked faces. _Hm, apparently not everyone knew yet_...

They're about halfway to their destination when they pass two baby cheerios hanging out at a locker. "Well, if it isn't the 'Homo Express'," one of the girls laughs out.

Santana can't help herself and spins on her heel, effectively dragging Rachel to a halt as she stares at the girl in question―a particularly mutinous blonde who's been giving her a hard time all year. "How about I express my fist to your face?" she snarls, adjusting her posture to let the girl know she's not planning on backing down any time soon.

Rachel reaches her free hand to the Latina's shoulder, trying to calm her or at least let her know that a physical altercation is probably not the best course of action.

The blonde laughs slightly. "Chill out, _Ellen_," she says simply as she locks her locker.

"Yeah, no need to dyke-out," the redhead standing next to her chimes in.

The cheerleaders turn to walk away with a chuckle, but still speak loud enough for the pair to hear. "_She_'s obviously the butch," the blonde footnotes absently.

"Yeah, and then there's her little troll-faced girlfriend," the ginger adds.

Santana snaps. It's one thing to make fun of _her_ to try to get your rocks off―truth be told, she's used to it by now―but bringing Rachel into it is something entirely different. She pulls out of Rachel's grasp and quickly catches up to the pair, her height working to her advantage once again. "Well, let's just see how 'butch' I can be," is the only warning she gives the girls before shit really goes down.

Santana grabs the blonde by the arm and pushes her hard into the row of lockers beside them before grabbing the redhead to spin her around and punch her directly in the nose. The recoil from the impact makes Santana slightly wince, shaking her open fist in a bit of pain, but the bit of blood immediately starting to drip from the girl's nose makes her smile again. Her victory is short lived, though, as she feels the blonde girl jump onto her back, wrapping one arm tight around her throat and using the other hand to tug at her hair.

Santana raises her hands to her throat reflexively, but abruptly makes a ninety-degree turn and backs up with as much force as she can muster, practically jumping at the lockers to slam the blonde back against them. It works, and the blonde releases her hold around Santana's neck, crumbling to the ground with a hand gripping her back, coughing heavily from her windedness. Santana doubles over slightly, hands on her knees, to try to catch her own breath.

When she stands upright, the redhead is standing right in front of her―blood dripping freely down from her nose to her mouth. The girl just smiles sardonically before launching a fist that manages to connect solidly with Santana's right eye. Santana can feel a slight crack and quickly becomes aware of the fact that she's probably managed to fracture her orbital bone. It just makes the rage rise even higher.

She launches a blind punch towards the girl's chin, which definitely hits something judging from the feel, before lunging forward to tackle the girl to the ground. She only gets a few punches in before she feels herself being pulled back by the shoulders, assuming that the blonde has gotten up from the ground to rejoin the fray.

"Fuck the fuck off you dumb bitch," she yells over her shoulder as she quarter turns her head, but as she glances over she quickly realizes that it's Coach Bieste who's pulling her back and she clamps her mouth shut.

"That's enough!" the older woman voices loudly. "Everyone get to your classes! _Now_!"

At the woman's words, Santana notices for the first time that their spectacle managed to draw quite a crowd in addition to Rachel―who is still standing in the front row, her face awash in a mixture of horror and concern. Santana reaches up to her eye to find that there's a bit of blood trickling out, and she balls her hands into fists at her sides, part of her wanting to rush over and continue to beat the shit out of the two cheerios in retribution. No one draws blood and gets away with it.

The crowd has barely thinned out, and Bieste starts to grow impatient. "NOW!" she reiterates with force, causing Santana to slightly wince from the close proximity, but when the two baby cheerios turn to leave the coach speaks once more. "_Not _you two," she chides with a firm point. "The four of us are taking a trip to the nurse's office, and then we're going to go have a talk with Principal Figgins."

Santana's face drops as she considers the consequences of her actions for the first time. _Fuck_. She releases an audible sigh, knowing that it's fully possible that she could get suspended despite Figgins' trademark ambivalence.

* * *

About half an hour later, Santana is sitting on one of the beds in the nurse's office with her legs hanging off of the side. She's been fully patched up―a couple strips of medical tape holding the small cut beneath her eye shut―and is holding an icepack against her fast-bruising skin when the noise of someone entering the room calls her attention to the door. She reflexively smiles. "Hi."

"Hey," Rachel breathes out softly, sympathetically, as she approaches with a look of concern across her features. She pulls one of the small wheeled utility-carts up beside the bed and hops up to take a seat. She reaches out a gentle hand and places it on top of the Latina's, gently shifting the icepack out of the cheerleader's grip and into her own. She removes it for a moment, raising her other hand to run the pads of her fingers lightly along the purple skin. Santana winces with a slight gasp and pulls back a bit. "Sorry," the diva breathes out softly with an apologetic smile. "Yeah, it looks like that's going to swell up quite a bit."

Santana groans. "Girl gets one shot in and it had to be my fucking eye."

Rachel shakes her head with a bit of a smile as she presses the icepack back onto the bruised skin.

Santana raises a curious eyebrow, "Were those the girls who slushied you?" The diva just nods, and she smiles wide. "Well then, I'm glad I killed two bitches with one stone."

Rachel rolls her eyes with a bit of a chuckle. "Why did you snap like that?" she asks curiously.

The Latina shrugs. "I don't know, I mean I've put up with those prosti-tots the entire year, so I'm completely used to their bullshit..." she pauses for a moment, really thinking about it. "Ok, I _do_ know," she nods slightly in realization, causing Rachel to raise a curious eyebrow. Her voice gets incredibly soft and she's sure she might even be blushing a bit. "They were talking shit about _you_, so I shut them up."

Rachel's eyes grow incredibly soft and her heart melts at the Latina's words. "You defended my honour," she breathes out softly, raising a hand to run it along the girl's non-bruised cheek.

Santana raises her hand to take the diva's from her cheek and into her own, placing a soft kiss on it before growing a bit smug. "Well... despite the fact you're a total jackass―" Rachel rolls her eyes. "You're kinda pretty, still. So I guess you merit defending," she shrugs.

The diva chuckles with a slight shake of her head. "And you..." she trails off, running a lazy finger along the neck of the Latina's t-shirt. "Are my knight in shining armour." She lowers the icepack and tugs on the collar, causing their lips to meet softly.

When she pulls away, Santana arches a playful eyebrow. "You're just saying that so you can call yourself a princess."

Rachel smirks and raises her eyebrows, "Well, maybe."

Santana chuckles, but groans as the action vibrates through the tender muscle and, likely, fractured bone.

"Poor baby," Rachel chuckles sadly, raising the icepack back up to the girl's eye.

They just stare at each other softly, seemingly having an unspoken conversation for a while before the Latina arches a concerned eyebrow in realization. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

Rachel smiles somewhat shyly and looks down. "Well, technically yes... but, as you very well know, these are not the most pressing classes of the year; and, in addition, I figure that my two and a half years of perfect attendance can withstand a blemish, given important enough circumstances."

Santana smiles with a bit of a blush that she hopes is hidden behind the bruising. "I'm glad to hear that I'm 'important enough circumstances'."

Rachel raises her free hand to brush some of the Latina's hair out of her face, staring deep into her eyes. "Of course you are. I don't know what could possibly make you think that you're not."

Now Santana's sure the blushing is visible. She raises her hand to lightly grasp the diva's wrist and lower the icepack, tugging the arm and pulling Rachel in for a kiss. She runs her tongue along the split in the diva's lips and the girl lets her in, and despite the fact it actually hurts to do it―physically―she lets herself melt into the embrace.

She raises her hands to the diva's cheeks and Rachel's hands take residence on her sides, and the kiss is just so tender, so comfortable, that it feels... _Kind of perfect_, she smiles.

"Alright, San―oh!" a familiar voice cuts in.

Rachel pulls back in surprise, a heavy blush across her features, and Santana slightly chuckles―again, despite the pain―as she glances over to see Coach Bieste in the doorway with a hand raised over her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone else was in here," the woman says, somewhat embarrassedly, not dropping her hand.

"It's ok," Santana says softly, a relatively broad smile across her features.

Bieste clears her throat slightly as she drops her hand, feeling significantly awkward. "Uh, hi Rachel," she greets with a bit of a wave.

Rachel is looking elsewhere, the sheer darkness of her blush making Santana smile even wider and shake her head.

"Santana?" the woman voices, corralling the Latina's attention. "We've gotta go see Figgins now."

Santana sighs heavily. "What am I up against?" she asks curiously, somewhat pleadingly.

"They each got two for fighting," Bieste replies, referring to the two baby cheerios.

Santana nods before turning her attention back to Rachel, reaching a hand out to grasp one of the diva's own, drawing the diva's eyes back to hers. "Can you do me a favour and give Quinn a ride home―" she catches her error. "Or, well, to my mom's place, after school?"

Rachel just nods and Santana slides off the bed to her feet, leaning in to give the girl a soft kiss. "I'll see you later," she smiles gently, squeezing the girl's hand before relinquishing her hold and heading towards the door.

* * *

**I'm such an ass. Consider this chapter fashionably late... if getting sick is in fashion ;) Just like thisfic!Santana, I **_**never **_**get sick―probably only once every couple of years―so when I do, I'm actually pretty comatose. (Welcome to the past week of my life!) Couldn't post on Monday 'cause it wasn't done, and if I had posted it even yesterday it would have been a completely incoherent steaming pile of shit. lol. I certainly hope it turned out readable :s**

**I'll try to make up for the wait by getting two (likely shorter) updates up next week. Sound fair? :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: So this picks up immediately where we left off.**

**Oh, and there's a bit of, ahem, self-satisfaction in this one... so I hope no one's averse to that :3 In any case, ****NSFW**** and all that****.**

* * *

It's not long before Coach Bieste and Santana enter Principal Figgins' office, and the man looks up with a bit of a smile. "Miss Lopez, please have a seat," he gestures to the seats across the desk from his own.

Santana settles into one of the chairs and Bieste takes a spot at the side of the room, leaning back against some filing cabinets with her arms crossed.

Figgins puts on his reading glasses and lifts the incident report. "So... from what I have down on file so far, you instigated the fight that took place this lunch hour." He lowers the page to look over at the girl. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this is a serious accusation."

Santana crosses her arms defensively. "No way, I didn't instigate shi―" she catches herself. "_They_ said..." she trails off, not sure how much she wants to tell the man. She certainly doesn't want to drop Rachel right into the middle of it, even though she's pretty sure there's no way the diva could get in _trouble_ for it. _Just no_, she mentally chides herself as she steels her expression. "Well, they said some pretty nasty stuff... to _me_," she adds, just to be sure.

"What could they have possibly said that would justify physically attacking them?" the man asks plainly.

Santana sighs. "They made some... comments. Some offensive comments."

Figgins raises a curious eyebrow, "Racial?"

She shakes her head, "No. Not racial... more..." she trails off, pursing her lips and looking around the room, really having no idea how she's going to talk her way out of this one.

Bieste leans slightly forward, staring softly at the Latina. "Did they have anything to do with what I saw in the nurse's office?" she asks carefully, obvious concern lacing her voice.

Santana's eyes go wide and she looks back at the football coach with a pleading expression and shake of her head, trying to compel her not to bring it up. Chances are if that particular topic comes up, so will a certain diva who was also in that office.

The man across the desk has a curious eyebrow raised but decides not to ask, rather sighing as he pores over the report again. "Well, everyone I have talked to who witnessed the altercation has said that there was no provocation, that you just attacked Miss Hart and Miss Owens for no good reason."

Santana's eyes widen. "_What_?" she questions in disbelief. "Who are your witnesses, the two girls I was in a fight with?"

"Now Principal Figgins," Bieste cuts in. "I know Santana here pretty well from my dealings with both the Cheerios and the Glee Club, and that just doesn't sound right to me."

Santana smiles at the woman in thanks.

"I think those other two girls were pulling the wool over your eyes," the woman continues. "You lie to my face, you pass gas in my ear," she adds matter-of-factly, causing Santana's brow to furrow in complete and utter confusion and Figgins' brow to do the same.

The man just shakes his head before looking back at the Latina. "Was there anyone there who saw the exchange and can vouch for you? Someone who can verify that the girls _did_ say whatever it was that was so offensive?"

Santana sighs heavily, starting to wonder if there's any other way out of this. She arches an eyebrow. "So, _in theory_, let's say that no one saw it... that, as you say, I just 'attacked them for no good reason'..." she rolls her eyes as she speaks. "What happens to me then?"

"Well," the man starts, placing down the report to flip through the Latina's file on his desk. "You have a history of fighting... though nothing serious since your freshman year." He pauses to read over some more of the file before looking up once more. "Given your past record, I would have no choice but to suspend you for ten days."

Both Bieste's and Santana's eyes threaten to pop out of their heads. "_Ten days_?.!" they echo in unison.

Santana furrows her brow as she does the mental math. "But that would stretch into exams..."

Figgins rubs his forehead in thought. "Well, we would have to work around that. You would be suspended for tomorrow and Wednesday, then the five days prior to the examination period in January, and then the first three days of the new semester."

Santana raises a hand to rub her own forehead, her head suddenly pounding. _Holy fucking hell, fuck shit, goddamnit. What the fuck do I do now?_

Bieste suddenly furrows her brow, seemingly thinking back. "Wasn't Rachel Berry there?" she asks curiously.

The Latina shakes her head pronouncedly, "No. No, she absolutely was not."

Figgins raises a curious eyebrow. "If Miss Berry _was_ there and can vouch for what you're saying, your suspension would be reduced to two days in accordance with the school policy on provoked violence."

Santana crosses her arms again and speaks firm. "No. Rachel was _not_ there."

Figgins looks unimpressed and when Santana looks over to the Coach, her expression matches.

"I'm not convinced," Figgins says simply. "Why don't we just call her in here anyway and see what she has to say about all of this."

Santana groans and runs a hand along her face in frustration as Figgins gets on the intercom and tells his assistant to call the diva down to the office.

It's a few minutes later when Rachel enters the room, looking nothing if not terrified. If Santana had to guess, she'd say that this is the first time the diva has ever been summoned here.

"Miss Berry," Figgins perks up as he notices the girl. "Please take a seat."

Rachel reluctantly settles into the seat next to Santana's, gripping the armrests hard, her knuckles white and her eyes wide. She looks over at the Latina with absolute fear across her face.

Santana shoots the girl an apologetic smile, mouthing, 'I'm sorry.'

"Now Miss Berry," the man starts. "We are just trying to investigate the events surrounding a physical altercation that took place in the hallway today at lunch. Are you familiar with the incident that I'm talking about?"

Rachel chances a glance over at the Latina, and Santana nods encouragingly. No use to lie about it, Bieste knows full well that the girl _saw_ the fight.

The diva turns back towards Figgins with a firm nod, "Assuming you are talking about the fight, yes, I am familiar."

Figgins nods in return. "Ok. Can you tell me exactly what happened?"

Rachel glances back over to Santana, and the Latina just shrugs with another nod. Rachel's already here, she's already in it, she might as well get her off the hook.

"Well, Santana and I were walking down the hallway to class. We passed by the two girls in question and they started making some... less than appropriate comments about the two of us."

"What kind of comments, specifically?" the man questions with a raised eyebrow, and when Rachel looks over, Santana just nods again with a sigh.

"We were holding hands and they started making comments that were of a homophobic nature."

Figgins' eyes slightly widen and he stares between the two girls in a bit of a shock, but Rachel presses on.

"Santana asked them to refrain from making such comments, but they continued."

Santana leans her head onto her hand, hiding a bit of a smirk behind it, the diva's version of the story perhaps not being the _entire_ truth.

Figgins nods. "Ok, that definitely adds a different layer to the story... but I must ask," he pauses with a bit of a sigh. "Were the girls _walking away_ when Miss Lopez attacked them, or did they make some sort of move that would suggest that they were going to get physical?"

Santana's eyes go wide and she looks over to Rachel, who is chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes having slightly widened as well.

"Well," the diva looks down in thought, not willing to risk a look over at the Latina, and when she looks back up, she speaks firmly. "In my _personal_ opinion, they were making no efforts towards leaving. They were definitely trying to get a rise out of Santana and have the situation escalate."

Figgins nods and Santana smiles behind her hand―Rachel is lying for her, lying to an _authority figure _for her. As an added bonus, the diva has definitely never gotten in trouble in school, so she's pretty much the perfect ally to have in this situation. Figgins really has no reason to distrust her.

He turns his attention to the Latina. "Is that how it happened?"

Santana sits back upright and nods.

The man sighs and scribbles some things down on the incident report. "Ok, this changes things significantly." He turns his attention back to Rachel. "Thank you for your input and your time, Miss Berry. You can head back to class," he smiles as he gestures an arm towards the door.

Rachel rises from her chair and looks over to the Latina with a bit of a smile. Santana smiles wide in return and mouths, 'Thank you,' before the girl turns to leave―and she truly means it.

Once the diva is gone, Figgins turns back towards Santana with a furrowed brow. "Ok, now about your punishment."

* * *

Santana gets escorted to her car and off of the premises by security, but she still drives home with a bit of a smile. Two days' suspension. It's almost laughable. Her 'punishment' pretty much just turned into the gift of two extra days of Christmas vacation. Sure, it's a suspension and it's probably not gonna look super awesome on her record, but really, the benefits of this one are _far_ outweighing the cons. For one, she got to take out at least some of her pent-up aggression―covering everything from sexual frustration to the Finncident to her morning meeting with Sue to the slushying and the homophobic comments and beyond―on two girls she's wanted an excuse to pound on all year. Secondly, she totally won points with Rachel for fighting―something she never would have expected with the diva being all anti-violence and pro-animals and all that shit. As she thinks about it all, her smile spreads.

_I'm so getting laid for this._

By the time she actually gets home it's close to 2. She enters the house and raises her arms in victory before laughing at herself for being such a weirdo. She drops her bag and jacket onto the bench before heading into the house, grabbing an apple from the kitchen before settling into the living room. She pops on the tv and reclines onto the couch with a sigh, unsure she's ever felt so content. It's with a wide smile that she drifts off into a bit of a daydream.

_Rachel emerges from the steam-filled shower wearing a bathrobe, one that isn't really leaving much to the imagination. Santana sits upright on the bed, licking her lips as she stares at the mass amount of bare skin being flaunted in front of her―the diva's incredibly long legs on near-full display; the swell of her breasts, heaving, peeking out from behind the v-shaped closure of her robe; her dripping wet hair matted against her face and neck and body and, "Shiiiit."_

Santana starts to run a hand absently along her abs, hiking up her shirt to let her fingertips tiptoe over taut skin, the muscles contracting beneath them as she bites down on her bottom lip.

_Rachel starts to approach slowly, seductively, biting the corner of her lip as she tugs playfully on the ties of her robe. "Hey," she greets softly, unmistakable gruff in her voice._

"_Hi," Santana struggles out, surprisingly short of breath at the scene in front of her._

_The diva approaches the bed and immediately moves to straddle one of the Latina's thighs, slowly spreading herself and lowering down onto the firm muscle._

Santana gasps aloud as she lets her free hand creep down to her thigh, running her fingertips lightly up and down the soft yet muscular skin below her cheerios skirt.

_Santana reaches out to grab Rachel, roughly, by the collar of her robe, pulling her in for a crushing kiss. Their tongues dance in a frantic rhythm as Rachel starts a slow slide along the Latina's thigh._

Santana slides her hand up from her abdomen to her chest, starting to tease her breasts through the lace of her bra.

_Rachel pushes Santana back onto the bed hard, her back creating a reverberating thud as it hits the mattress. She slowly undoes her bathrobe, leaving it hanging open around her body. Santana's eyes glaze over as she stares from the diva's throat down to her cleavage, a hint of a nipple sticking out from behind the soft cotton, following down along tight abs to see Rachel's naked centre gliding smoothly up and down her own thigh._

Santana lets her nails scrape gently along the skin of her thigh, tickling ever-closer to her destination, a moan threatening to escape her throat.

_Rachel quickly pushes the Latina's shirt and bra both up far enough so that she can lean down and capture a nipple between her lips, her wet hair brushing along the Latina's torso as she kneads the other breast with one of her hands. She starts to slide her other hand further down, tickling along the Latina's abs._

Santana abandons her thigh, sliding her hand up towards the top of her skirt as she uses her other hand to pinch her nipple through the fabric of her bra.

_Rachel lifts her mouth back up to reunite it with the Latina's as she uses one hand to brace her weight against the mattress, the other playing along the waistband of Santana's skirt. The diva lightly bites onto the Latina's lower lip as she dips her hand beneath the threshold, venturing into the unknown._

Santana gasps as she runs her hand along her own slit, honestly surprised at how wet she is.

_Rachel smiles at the wetness, leaning her mouth close to the Latina's ear. "Only I can do that to you, huh..." she breathes out teasingly, shifting to lightly nibble Santana's chin as she starts to circle two fingers around her entry point._

_Santana just nods, biting her lip with a pleading expression. "Please," she coos._

_Rachel just smirks, leaning to suck on the Latina's throat as she slides two fingers in deep._

"Holy fuck," Santana breathes aloud as her muscles immediately contract around her own fingers.

_Santana reaches her hands out to touch the diva's breasts, the fact that they're hovering right above her body really being too much to resist, as Rachel establishes a steady rhythm with her hand and keeps her body sliding in the same rhythm along the Latina's thigh._

_Santana quickly starts to lose control of her breathing as the pace of the diva's hand increases. "Shit, Rachel," she breathes out, and the diva smirks._

"_Is this what you want?" she coos, slightly twisting her fingers in a way that makes Santana squirm._

"Fuck yeah," the Latina groans softly, a familiar feeling starting to well up in the pit of her stomach.

_Rachel starts to rotate her fingers a little more liberally, stretching the Latina out a little as she reaches another finger down and starts to ghost her thumb over the girl's heavily swollen clit._

"_Do you want more?" the diva husks out, dropping her forehead to rest on top of the Latina's, her hair creating a curtain around their heads as she looks down at her hand. "Tell me what you want."_

"_I want you..." Santana struggles out, Rachel's fingers continuing to curl and stretch her insides in a way that is so, so pleasurable._

_Rachel arches an eyebrow with a mischievous grin. "You want me to what?"_

_The Latina groans. "I want you to make me come."_

_The diva smiles, starting to press her third finger against the cheerleader's entry teasingly. "How?"_

Santana starts to squirm on the couch, reaching her other hand down to start gently circling around her clit as takes her lower lip between her teeth.

"_I want," the Latina nearly pants. "I want more of you inside of me."_

_Rachel smiles wide. "Ok," she says simply as she acquiesces, slightly pulling her two established fingers out before pushing all three in._

Santana gasps aloud at the feel of the addition, the pressure building within her threatening to explode.

"_Anything else?" the diva smirks._

_Santana balls one hand in the bed sheets and raises the other to her forehead, the heat running throughout her body bordering on unbearable. "I want you to... to use your thumb on... on my clit," she struggles out unevenly._

_Rachel smiles wide again before dipping her head down to the Latina's throat, sucking hard on the sensitive skin as she curls her fingers upwards and presses the pad of her thumb against the cheerleader's clit firmly._

Santana's almost sure she's drawing blood with the force of her teeth on her lip, but she's too far gone to care.

_Rachel bites Santana's pulse point hard while drawing a furious circle around her clit, and that's all it takes for the Latina to unravel._

"Ungh, Rach..." she moans out with surprising restraint before her back arches and the shakes start to settle in. She tries to ride it out, her arms growing tired as she tries to prolong the moment, the only picture in her mind one of Rachel hovering over her, being _in_ her, with a mischievous smile and eyes as dark as the night sky.

Exhaustion settles over her quickly, though, and her hands still as she collapses rigidly back onto the couch, her chest heaving and her breath ragged.

When she finally opens her eyes, she's still short of breath and beads of sweat are scattered across every bit of bare skin. She smiles, though, feeling entirely satisfied at the moment, as she pulls her hands out from under her skirt, letting them rest on her bare stomach.

_It's gonna fucking happen_, she smiles to herself as she stares up at the ceiling, her hands starting to unconsciously drift across her exposed skin once more. It's only when one makes contact with her bra that she clues into what she's doing and sits up with a bit of a start, quickly tugging her shirt back down. She raises a hand to her forehead, _I really fucking am a teenage boy_, she chuckles softly, slightly wincing at the action as she shakes her head. _Maybe a cold shower will do the trick_, she muses as she stands from the couch and heads off to the bathroom, figuring it's her best choice.

* * *

It's close to 4 when a recently showered Santana can hear the front door burst open from her spot in the living room, and it's mere seconds before Quinn appears in the doorframe with an incredibly wide smile. "I can't believe you got suspended!" she laughs excitedly, dropping her bag to the floor just outside of the room.

Santana rolls her eyes from her position on the couch. "They totally had it coming."

The blonde shrugs. "Well, yeah, _obviously_, I just can't believe I missed it!" she remarks with a smirk, entering the room before shedding her jacket and tossing it onto a chair. "Holy fuck, your eye!" she observes as she moves further into the room, Rachel entering just behind her.

Santana chuckles, but quickly winces as a consequence.

The blonde walks close to stare at the bruise and the diva comes up beside her to take a look as well. Santana suddenly starts to feel like a museum exhibit as she glances somewhat awkwardly between the two girls hovering over her.

Rachel reaches a hand out to the Latina's cheek and ghosts her thumb over the bruising. "Have you been icing it?"

Quinn is still shifting around, seemingly trying to look at the Latina's eye from every possible angle, as Santana rolls her eyes again.

"Yes, mom," she responds, looking up at the diva with a bit of a playful smile. "I have cold compress packs in my cheerios bag _and_ my first aid kit."

Rachel just nods with a bit of a smile, letting her hand linger on the Latina's cheek, her thumb smoothing the skin. Quinn finally seems satisfied that she's gotten a good look at the wound and moves to take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, dropping down to face the Latina with a smile and an expectant sigh. "Ok, so now you need to tell me _everything_ that happened."

Rachel chuckles lightly as she leans in to give the Latina a soft kiss before dropping onto the couch between the two girls, letting Santana tell the tale.

The next half hour passes by with Santana regaling Quinn with the entire story of the fight, every detail of every bit of rage and every punch thrown, perhaps exaggerating a little here and there, but the blonde is just so _into_ the story―practically clapping along in excitement―that Rachel doesn't bother to correct any details, rather choosing to just watch in amusement.

"And then I had to go talk to Figgins," Santana slightly groans, raising a hand to her forehead. "I was fully expecting to get fucked over large... you know the deal." Quinn nods. "He wanted to give me ten days because I didn't have a 'witness'."

The blonde furrows her brow, chancing a glance at the diva beside her before looking back over to the Latina. "But Rachel was there..."

The diva nods before getting a word in edgewise. "Yes, and they _did_ call me to the office." She shakes her head slightly, "I was terrified. I had never been in to see Figgins before... well, other than when I've protested for various amenities―mostly glee-related."

Quinn rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a bit of a chuckle, and Santana just shakes her head, looking at the diva with a bit of adoration, _I fucking knew it_.

"You know," Santana starts. "I didn't _want_ them to call you into the office."

The other two girls turn towards her in confusion, Rachel arching a curious eyebrow, "Why?"

"Well, I didn't want to pull you into it," she responds simply with a bit of a shrug.

"That is completely ridiculous," the diva says flatly, and Santana can see Quinn nodding in agreement behind her. "You would have taken an extra _eight days_ of suspension and a black mark on your permanent record just so that I wouldn't have to talk to Principal Figgins?" The Latina nods and Rachel arches an eyebrow. "What did you think was going to happen to me?"

Santana shrugs, looking down somewhat bashfully. "I don't know. I just figured you were having a bad enough day... getting slushied and then the fight... I just thought that you didn't need the extra stress."

Rachel smiles softly with a bit of a shake of her head before leaning over to kiss the Latina again, raising a hand to rest on her cheek, the pair lingering in the embrace this time around.

"Ok!" Quinn starts from the other side of the couch as she moves to stand. "This is getting super gross super fast, so I'm gonna go get something to drink."

Santana rolls her eyes as she pulls away from the diva, watching with a bit of a grin as the blonde leaves the room. Rachel just lifts her legs up on to the couch, shifting in her seat to better face the Latina.

She sighs, "While taking my day into consideration is exceptionally thoughtful, and the fighting was actually incredibly _hot_," she looks down with a slight blush before looking into the cheerleader's eyes again. "It's too much," she says plainly. "I want to be able to help you, too. This isn't a one-way relationship."

Santana just nods and speaks softly, "Ok."

Rachel nods once in return before letting her face split into a wide smile. "Now, given that you _did_ slay the dragons who slushied me, I feel as though I should offer you some sort of reward."

"Fucking A," Santana smiles impossibly wide, running her hands up the diva's thighs to her ass and pulling the girl almost completely onto her lap. "Do I now get to take these," she runs her hands along the waistband of the diva's jeans in indication. "One hundred percent off?" She glances up with a raised eyebrow and a lick of her lips, part of the heat from earlier starting to enter her veins. "You _are_ in my house, after all. It was kind of part of the deal."

Rachel scoffs and rolls her eyes, though she doesn't move away, rather wrapping her arms around the Latina's neck with a smile. "You know, sometimes your attempts at getting into my pants border on kind of distasteful..." she trails off with a bit of playfulness.

Santana just arches an eyebrow, letting her hands drift down then back up the diva's thighs once more. "You forget... I've already _been_ in your pants―in the literal sense." The diva rolls her eyes again and Santana drops the pitch of her voice. "Now I wanna get in what's _inside_ your pants," she smirks, running her hands around to deliver a firm squeeze to the diva's ass.

Rachel blushes heavily with a squeak and shifts uncomfortably, and Santana's half sure she's managed to completely mortify the girl again. She rolls her eyes slightly, but raises a hand to run it along the diva's cheek. "Hey," she says softly. "You know I'm just messing around, right? Even if I happen to get a little, I don't know, graphic?" she offers with a smile.

The diva nods, "I know. I actually _like_ when you get graphic..." she trails off, looking down between their bodies with a pronounced blush.

Santana smiles wide before hooking a finger beneath the diva's chin and closing the small gap between their mouths with a chaste kiss. "And I like getting graphic with you," she breathes out against the diva's full lips before leaning back in, deepening the embrace this time around.

It doesn't last long before stomping footsteps can be heard coming down the hallway towards the room. "This is fair warning!" Quinn's voice comes from the hall, drawing a roll of the eyes and a bit of a chuckle from the Latina as she leans back into her seat.

"By the way," the blonde starts as she re-enters the room, her non-water-holding hand raised over her eyes in a cautionary measure that makes Santana smile. "Rumour around school was that you gave ginger-bitch a deviated septum."

The Latina completely lights up, "Fucking _yes_."

Rachel swings her feet off of the couch and turns and turns her body towards the front of the room, but keeps her focus on the Latina as she settles her chin onto the girl's shoulder. "She definitely had it coming," she starts, reaching a hand up to brush some of the Latina's hair behind her ears. "Especially since she broke your eye."

Santana rolls her eyes. "She didn't 'break my eye,' my eye is still fully functional."

Quinn arches an eyebrow as she drops back into her seat. "I don't know about that, S. Have you _seen_ who you're dating?" she asks playfully before taking a sip of her water.

The diva lifts her head abruptly and stares at the blonde as if she had just shot her in the chest.

"You know, I'm not averse to getting in two fights today, Q," Santana warns seriously, running a reassuring hand along the diva's back, feeling the need to defend her.

Quinn rolls her eyes and meets the diva's stare. "I'm just kidding, Rachel," she assures the girl before glancing around her to Santana. "My sense of humour isn't really gonna work with her, is it?" she questions curiously.

The Latina shakes her head with a bit of a smile. "There's a fine line, Fabray... and you just shat all over it."

Quinn just rolls her eyes again as she puts her glass down on the coffee table. Rachel looks over to the clock before turning back towards Santana with an apologetic smile.

"I'd better get going."

Santana looks over with a questioning eyebrow raised, a large part of her still wondering what her 'reward' is and when she's going to get it.

The diva sighs. "My dads are having people over for dinner so I kind of have to play hostess."

Santana nods in understanding, though her face involuntarily drops to a bit of a frown. "Ok."

Rachel notices it and a soft smile spreads across her face. "Walk me out?" she requests softly, and the Latina just nods, a bit of a smile spreading across her own features.

They stand up from the couch and Rachel turns towards Quinn with a bright smile. "Goodbye, Quinn."

The blonde nods in return, wearing a smile herself. "Bye Rachel... thanks for the ride."

The diva nods. "Will you be needing a ride tomorrow?"

Quinn turns towards Santana with a questioning eyebrow and the Latina nods. "Yeah, that'd be great if you could."

Rachel nods again, "Ok, I will be here at 8 to pick you up."

"Thanks," the blonde breathes out a little sheepishly, still feeling a little uncomfortable with the idea of accepting favours from a girl who she spent the better part of her life making miserable.

Rachel just smiles in return before reaching out to take Santana's hand, and the pair exit to the hallway.

When they get out, Santana tugs the diva around so that she can take her other hand as well. She's wearing a soft smile and leans in to kiss the diva chastely before leaning back. "Thank you for saving my ass with Figgins..." she trails off with a bit of shyness.

Rachel just smiles. "While I don't typically advocate violence―under any circumstances―they _did_ deserve it, even if 'school policy' says you're in the wrong."

Santana smiles in return before furrowing her brow and raising a curious eyebrow, sudden realization making her confused. "Where's my cheerios top?" she asks simply, noticing for the first time that the diva is wearing a WMHS gym shirt rather than the borrowed top.

Rachel laughs a little. "Yeah, funny story... Sue literally tried to rip it off of my body in the hallway... it was all very awkward."

A multitude of expressions pass over the Latina's face before she looks over in a bit of confusion. "And yet I find _nothing_ about that situation sexy," she deadpans. Rachel rolls her eyes and Santana smiles before releasing a sigh, raising a hand to run it along the diva's cheek. "I'm sorry, I should've been there. I should've had your back."

The diva shakes her head with a bit of a stern expression. "You worry too much about protecting me."

Santana just shrugs. "Well, you _are_ kind of small," she observes with a bit of playfulness.

Rachel chuckles lightly, running her hands down the Latina's arms to hold her hands. "Just as long as you know that I can protect myself, too. I'm not looking for a bodyguard," she explains simply, looking deep into the Latina's eyes.

Santana sighs, shifting her focus to their hands. "I know, Rach. You just, you get picked on more than the average person and... it shouldn't be like that," she looks up softly, squeezing the hands within her own.

"Story of my life," the diva shrugs flippantly. "And it'll make great material for the best-selling autobiography I plan to write some day."

The Latina rolls her eyes, "Ahh, a book on your favourite topic."

Rachel pulls one of her hands away to slap the Latina's shoulder playfully, pointing a finger at her in mock seriousness. "When I'm a great success on Broadway, known the world over, people will want nothing more than to read the words that I have written about my extraordinary journey."

Santana grins, tugging on the diva's hand that is still in her own to pull her closer before wrapping her arms around the diva's waist. "Baby, if you were words on a page, you'd be what they call _fine print_," she wiggles her eyebrows.

Rachel just rolls her eyes and slightly groans, letting her hands drift up and down the cheerleader's upper arms.

Santana just winks with a wide smile. "So... will I see you tomorrow?" she ventures curiously.

Rachel sighs, raising a hand to run it through her hair. "I don't know. I was counting on seeing you in school, but..." she trails off, her face suddenly dropping entirely. "Oh my god, you're not going to be at the assembly..."

Santana's face twists in a bit of sympathy, though it tweaks her sensitive muscles. "I'm sorry," she says softly with a slight shrug.

Rachel just shrugs in return. "I _suppose_ it's alright..." she draws out solemnly before her face splits into a complete grin. "It just means another solo for me."

The Latina rolls her eyes with a playful scoff. "Well then, I see just how much _I'm_ needed."

The diva shakes her head with a slight smile, raising a hand to the Latina's cheek. "You should know by now that you are," she says softly as she runs her thumb along the smooth skin. She lifts to her tiptoes and presses her lips lightly against the taller girl's.

Santana smiles against the diva's lips, but it drops into a bit of a pout when the diva pulls away. Santana drops her forehead to rest on the diva's and Rachel laughs lightly, letting her hands rest on the Latina's neck, drawing a lazy pattern with her index finger.

"You're such a softy," she teases lightly.

Santana just rolls her eyes again before hooking her thumbs through the diva's belt loops, pulling her closer. "So, you didn't answer me."

"Hm?" Rachel inquires curiously, an eyebrow raised.

"Tomorrow..." she clarifies, looking down between their bodies and licking her lips. "Will I see you?" she looks back up with a bit of a smile.

Rachel sighs, and that's all it takes to make Santana's face drop slightly. "As much as I would like to, I have school and then I have to run some errands for Christmas... so it doesn't seem entirely feasible."

Santana nods, though it's with a bit of a frown. "Ok."

"I'll call you, though?" the diva offers as a placebo, and it makes the Latina smile again as she nods.

"Ok," she answers simply once more.

"Well, ok," the diva lightly chuckles out.

They share another soft kiss before Rachel dons her jacket and heads out of the house. Santana watches with a smile as she climbs into her car and as she drives away.

When she heads back into the living room, Quinn is still on the couch and looks over with an eyebrow raised.

"So, I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you didn't tell her about Sue..."

Santana just shakes her head as she settles back into her seat.

Quinn's eyebrow stays at attention. "Are you _planning_ to tell her?"

The Latina shakes her head again. "Not until it's actually necessary. I don't want her to be all freaking out about it over the holidays when it's not even that big of a deal."

The blonde shakes her head and furrows her brow in confusion. "I don't get it."

Santana's eyebrow lifts. "Get what?"

"How you can just let it slide," the blonde explains. "The Santana Lopez _I_ know would _never_ let that shit slide."

Santana sighs, lifting an arm to the top of the couch and leaning her head onto her hand. "I don't know, it's just not the time." The blonde arches an eyebrow once more. "I'm suspended now anyway, so it's not like it's making any difference. There's no reason to even think about it. I'll deal with it next year," she shrugs.

The blonde's brow stays knitted. "You know Rachel would never let it go, right?"

Santana knods with wide eyes. "And that's _exactly_ why I don't want to tell her," she explains as if it should be obvious.

Quinn nods in slight understanding. "Ok, I guess..." she draws out warily, deciding to let it be for now, before her face splits into a bit of a smile. "So how do we celebrate this whole suspension slash kicking-bitches'-asses fest?"

The Latina chuckles, groaning as a result and raising a hand to her eye. "I could see if Puck wants to bring over some beer?" she offers.

Quinn shakes her head in mock disapproval, "Alcoholic."

Santana scoffs. "You got any better ideas?"

The blonde furrows her brow in thought for a moment. "Actually, no."

Santana just nods, "That's what I thought." She reaches to the side table to grab her phone before tapping out a quick text.

'Time to celebrate beating bitches down! Bring beer :)'

A response comes in shortly that makes the Latina roll her eyes. 'Caaant. hangin wit the boyss. too drrnk to deliver.'

'Drunk on a Monday afternoon... Classy.' She types out with a bit of a smile.

'Look whos talkng ms bring-beer.'

Santana chuckles again, wincing in pain as she does before turning towards the blonde with a bit of a frown. "No Puck, so no beer."

Quinn just nods. "Ok then... movie?" she suggests with a raised eyebrow.

The Latina nods with a smile. "Let's do it."

* * *

**If all goes to plan, next chapter's coming on Thursday :)**

**Thanks again for reading!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Previously, on IYH:**

"Yeah," Azimio chimes in. "It's getting a little too rainbow-coloured in here anyway. S'pose we shouldn't expect any less from 'Team Homo Club'," he laughs out, but he only has enough time to high-five with jock #2 before Puck is on the other side of the table, spinning him around before delivering a punch square to his cheek.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out." He directs at the three jocks, Azimio grasping at his face as the other two look on in surprise.

* * *

Santana sleeps in on Tuesday. It's close to 11am before she turns her head to take a look at the clock, the time making her groan. Despite spending nearly 12 hours in bed, Quinn having taken off for school earlier in the morning, she had spent the better part of the night waking up whenever she happened to her turn onto her right side―the bruise on the side of her face making its presence known loud and clear. Despite her exhaustion, though, she labouredly climbs out of the bed and heads off to the shower―today she has somewhere she has to be.

It's about noon by the time Santana pulls into a strange parking lot outside of a relatively dingy single-story building. She enters the building and scours the surprisingly labyrinthine hallways endlessly before she finally finds the office she's looking for.

The door is half open and Santana leans in slightly before knocking on the frame.

The man at the desk looks up in shock, though a bit of a smile is playing across his lips. "Kiddo!" he vocalizes, quickly rising from his seat. "Holy shit, what happened to your eye?" he asks with a high level of concern lacing his voice, his eyes fixed on the bruise.

Santana leans against the doorjamb and waves a flippant hand, "Long story."

The man nods, getting the impression the girl doesn't want to talk about it, before looking at her pointedly. "Well, don't just stand there, come in, come in," he gestures an arm to the chairs across the desk with a bit of a chuckle.

Santana nods with a bit of a sheepish smile before entering the room and settling into a chair, taking to wringing her hands together in front of her body and chewing her lip in nervousness. Kevin watches her with a curious eyebrow raised.

"Is something wrong?" he plies gently as he settles back into his own chair, closing the file folder on the desk in front of him.

The Latina shakes her head. "No no, nothing like that... I just, I need to ask you for a favour..." she draws out, her heart already beating in her throat.

Kevin raises an expectant eyebrow.

Santana sighs heavily and looks down at her hands. She takes a deep breath and, when she speaks, it comes out as one long run-on sentence. "Ok, so I know this might be pushing it, but I've got something planned for Rachel in terms of a Christmas gift and, well, I was kind of hoping that you would let her miss her afternoon classes tomorrow since tomorrow's the last day of school anyway and there's nothing really important happening or anything like that..." she trails off, slightly out of breath and wholly wondering when she got as wordy as Rachel. She glances back up at the man with a hesitant smile.

Kevin's eyes slightly widen in amusement, a bit of a smile playing across his features, before he sighs, leaning back into his chair and clasping his hands over his stomach. "What exactly do you have planned that would make Rachel miss school?"

Santana reaches into her back pocket to retrieve two overly folded pieces of paper held together by a staple, unfolding them and doing her best to smooth out the creases before reaching across the desk to hand them to the man. "Well, as you can see, the activity itself isn't actually until the evening... but it's in the city. So we would need time to actually _get_ there..." she looks up with a bit of a pleading expression, one that causes the man to sigh deeply.

Kevin looks over the sheets with a bit of a smile, but he doesn't speak. There are a few minutes of silence, minutes during which Santana's heart is pounding in her ears, before he finally looks up with a soft expression. "Well, ok, I suppose that'd be alright. It _is_ kind of a party week anyway, isn't it?"

Santana nods fervently, and the man is half convinced her head is primed to bobble right off of her body.

Kevin's face splits into a smile as he gives a bit of a nod in return. "Ok then, I'll make sure that Rachel can get out of school for the afternoon... and we _never _tell David about this," he adds with a finger point and a bit of a smirk before handing the Latina back the sheets of paper.

The Latina nods knowingly with a smile, _Okay, that's one..._ but it quickly drops. She turns her attention to the sheet of paper in her hands, trying to fold it over an impossible number of times, trying to keep her focus anywhere but on the man in front of her, her nerves completely taking the wheel at even the prospect of asking her next question.

Kevin can see it all over her face. "There's something else...?" he ventures with an eyebrow raised.

Santana looks up uncertainly, knowing she's pushing her luck, even with Kevin. "I was also kind of hoping that you would maybe let her stay over at my place... _overnight_," she clarifies, staring at the man with pleading eyes, a lip worried between her teeth.

His eyes widen and he chuckles for a moment in a bit of disbelief. "You're really trying to test the boundaries, huh?"

At the man's reaction Santana's heart tightens, realizing that she just essentially asked the man for permission to have sex with his daughter. Her eyes go wide as she stammers out an answer. "Well... no... but... I mean..." she trails off, her hands now trying (and failing) to rip at the impossibly thick piece of paper between them, feeling entirely like she _has_ pushed too far.

Kevin shakes his head slightly, looking down at his desk, seemingly trying to process the idea. He leans back into his chair with a heavy sigh, tapping his fingers together, his brow heavily furrowed. He looks up after a few moments with soft eyes and a bit of a nod. "Ok."

"Ok?" Santana echoes in complete surprise, definitely not having expected it to be this easy and a large part of her having expected a flat out 'no'.

Kevin nods again. "I trust you," he says simply.

The Latina raises a slightly questioning eyebrow, not having a single, solitary clue what the man is talking about, and Kevin sighs.

"I trust you not to push Rachel into anything she's not ready for."

Santana smiles lightly. It's not exactly the most enthusiastic endorsement of her request―not that she ever thought he'd be all balls-to-the-wall excited about his daughter doing the nasty―but, _It'll do_. "Thank you. Thank you so much," she slightly gushes.

Kevin just nods in return and Santana moves to stand, not wanting to give the man too much time to reconsider his answer. It kind of feels like she's walking on eggshells at the moment and she doesn't want to give things time to crumble.

She rubs her hands together. "So, I should probably get going," she says lamely, chancing a glance over her shoulder at the still-open door.

Kevin looks down at his watch and his eyes slightly widen. "Yeah, you might actually want to hurry up if you wanna be on time for your afternoon classes."

Santana looks down at her shoes for a moment, figuring it's probably best to just stay silent on that one. She looks back up with a smile and extends her hand across the desk for a handshake.

The man looks at her hand incredulously. "You're fucking kidding me, right?" he nearly laughs as he looks back up with an eyebrow arched.

The Latina just smiles and shakes her head as Kevin moves around the desk to wrap her up in a firm hug.

"You just take care of my girl," he starts as he runs a soothing hand along the Latina's back. "_And_ your eye," he adds with a bit of a smirk as he steps back and looks at it a little more closely. "And we'll be just fine."

Santana rolls her eyes with a bit of a smile. "I'll do what I can."

Kevin sighs heavily and runs a hand over his short hair, letting it rest on his neck. "I have _no_ idea how I'm going to explain all of this to David, but that's my bridge to cross." He lifts his shoulders with a bit of a smile.

"Yeah," Santana slightly smirks. "Good luck with that one," she winks, drawing a hearty chuckle from the man.

"Such a fucking pain in the ass. I don't even know why Rachel puts up with you," he ribs good-naturedly with a bit of a grin.

The Latina shrugs and speaks with a bit of smugness. "I don't know, I'm kind of awesome when you get right down to it."

"And pretty charming, too," Kevin adds with a bit of a smile.

Santana full-on smiles, a bit of a blush across her cheeks, still feeling taken aback when gifted with compliments by authority figures. A grin quickly takes over her face, though. "Well, I am Princess Charming, by trade," she shrugs, drawing another laugh.

Kevin lightly shoves her shoulder, "Ok, kiddo. Get the fuck out of here and go do something scholastic."

Santana just rolls her eyes before heading towards the door, turning back to shoot the man a bit of a wave before leaving.

* * *

Santana runs some errands in preparation for the next day's adventure before heading back home, the time nearing 2. She packs some things up into a duffle bag and puts away other important things before grabbing her phone and reclining back on to the couch. By now the Christmas Assembly should be well on its way, and Santana's more than a little curious to know what's going on. She taps out a quick text to Quinn.

'What am I missing?'

'The most ridiculous assembly in the history of life. Figgins is dressed as Santa Claus.'

Santana laughs despite the pain as she pictures it in her mind. 'Lol omg. Pics or it didn't happen!'

A response comes in quickly. 'I got a couple, I'll show you when I get home. Rachel's 'White Christmas' solo is coming up soon... Might actually be a highlight given this trainwreck.'

Santana smirks, sensing that the second part of the message was likely begrudgingly written, before she feels a slight twisting in her chest. She finds herself actually feeling pretty sad that she's not there to perform, or at least watch. She shakes her head free of the thought, though she furrows her brow as another thought enters her mind.

She worries a lip between her teeth, knowing it may be a stretch to ask. 'Videotape it?'

'You're fucking disgusting' comes Quinn's response and Santana smiles, already knowing the blonde's gonna do it for her. Another text comes in, 'And it's not like her dads aren't probably lurking around here somewhere videotaping this shit.'

Santana's brow slightly furrows again, distinctly remembering that Kevin didn't seem to have a clue that there was an assembly today. 'I doubt it, but nevermind. What else happened?'

'Puck, Finn, Matt and Mike did 'Frosty the Snowman'. There were costumes.'

The Latina raises a hand over her mouth as she genuinely laughs, not even caring about the pain coming along with it. When she collects herself she focuses on tapping out a response. 'Holy fuck, I am crying. I really can't believe I'm missing this!'

'It really is quite the spectacle...'

Santana smiles and shakes her head before arching a curious eyebrow. 'Aren't you doing anything for it?'

'In front of the entire school? Are you fucking kidding me?'

She rolls her eyes. 'Pussy.'

'Whatever. Shut up for 5 minutes if you want that video, Rachel's coming on.'

A goofy grin spreads across the Latina's face, her heart fluttering at the thought of the diva belting out a Christmas classic for the entire school. Just as quickly, though, her face drops as she starts to worry about the reaction it will receive. By getting suspended, Santana kind of got a free pass from dealing with the fallout of being outed―aside from Sue―but Rachel isn't that lucky. She's still at school, and she's about to open herself up to the entire school when she's probably at her most vulnerable.

_I'm worrying too much_, she quickly chides herself, shaking her head once more before turning on the tv in a vain attempt to keep her mind occupied.

It's ten nervous minutes before another text from the blonde comes vibrating in.

'Shocking news: she fucking killed it :P'

Santana smiles at the message, almost wanting to hug her phone for lack of being able to do anything else. Another message comes in shortly after.

'And I hope your stupid prehistoric computer can fit this video because it's bordering on too big to fit in my phone.'

The Latina smirks, 'That's what she said?'

'If 'phone' is now a euphemism for 'vagina', then what exactly does it mean to have your phone on vibrate?'

Santana grins wider than she thought humanly possible as she tries to think of the most lewd response she can possibly muster, but before she can get anything written down, the handset vibrates again.

'On second thought, don't answer that. Please.'

She chuckles. 'Anything else exciting coming up?' she taps out curiously.

'Nah, I don't think so. I think it's mostly just the jazz ensemble doing a couple pieces and it should be pretty much over with.'

Santana raises an eyebrow, 'Sounds like you're gonna get out early.'

'Fingers crossed ;)'

* * *

Apparently school _doesn't _get out early, though, because Quinn doesn't get home until around the normal time for a school day. It's 4 when Santana hears the front door open and shut, and she hears chatter that makes her arch an eyebrow. Not willing to wait, she heads out into the front hallway to see what's going on.

Her eyes go impossibly wide as she sees both Quinn and Rachel removing their jackets and, most disturbingly, laughing... together.

"Uh, hi," she waves awkwardly, causing both of the other girls to look up with smiles, the diva looking extra excited.

"Oh Santana, you missed the most magnificent assembly!" she squeaks excitedly before running over and practically tackling the Latina down to the ground with a hug.

Santana smiles, both at the diva's enthusiasm and at the contact, before she notices Quinn rolling her eyes in the background.

"It would've been more 'magnificent' if they had dismissed us after the shitshow rather than sending us back to class..." she laments before ceding with a bit of a smile. "But it _was_ pretty hilarious, nonetheless."

Rachel pulls back from the embrace and nods elatedly. "And the solo went wonderful," she beams. "I just love the sound of an applauding audience."

Santana smiles further at the confirmation that her fears were unfounded―and, beyond that, just completely fucking ridiculous. It's not like they're the first people to be outed at WMHS, luckily for them (or unluckily for Kurt, depending on which way you look at it) Hummel had kind of already paved the way for gay at McKinley.

Quinn sighs and slightly straightens out her dress. "I'm gonna go change, I feel like a fucking hobo," she adds absently as she heads towards the stairs.

Santana smirks. "And you look it, too, Q," she calls after the blonde, earning a slap on the arm from Rachel and a flip of the bird from Quinn as she starts climbing the stairs.

Santana just shakes her head before turning back towards the diva. "So, you're a liar," she says simply causing the girl's face to positively twist.

Rachel raises a hand to her chest, growing slightly indignant. "_Excuse _me?"

The Latina smiles softly. "You said I wasn't going to see you today, which was obviously a lie," she explains as she steps closer to the girl.

The diva rolls her eyes. "Well I failed to consider the fact that I would be dropping Quinn off after school, and it would have been patently rude to not drop in and say 'hello'."

Santana grins as she reaches a hand out to grab the hem of the diva's skirt between her thumb and forefinger, tugging the girl in even closer. "Hello," she breathes out against the singer's lips, with a raise of her eyebrows, before pressing her own lips onto them, letting her hands drift around the diva's skirt to rest on her ass

Rachel's arms instinctively wrap around the Latina's neck, and when the taller girl pulls away, she looks down with a bit of a blush. "Hi," she says softly.

Santana just smiles.

When Rachel lifts her head again, she stares markedly at the Latina's bruise, pulling one of her hands back to ghost over the swelling. "You look kind of like a Picasso painting right now," she observes absently.

Santana scoffs, "Why, has my nose migrated to the side of my face?"

The diva lightly laughs and shakes her head. "_No_, but proportion-wise... the right side of your face is markedly larger than the left side at the moment."

The Latina rolls her eyes and points out a mock-serious finger. "You may or may not be part of the reason for that."

Rachel smiles smugly. "I guess I really am an artist."

Santana scoffs in slight disbelief, a wide smile across her face, before she leans in to unite their lips once more. She tries to deepen the embrace, but the diva pulls away abruptly.

"Oh," the diva voices as she pulls completely out of the Latina's grasp, turning back towards her things on the bench. She starts to rummage through her bag. "I almost forgot, your reward!"

Santana's eyes widen and she shifts her gaze from side to side, chancing a glance back over her shoulder at the stairs before turning forward once more, partially convinced they're about to have sex in the front hall. She raises an expectant eyebrow, one that turns more towards confusion when the diva turns back around, holding out a Tupperware container.

"Here you go, my knight," the diva smiles.

"Um, what?" Santana questions eloquently as she takes the proffered gift.

Rachel smiles brightly. "Open it!" she instructs excitedly.

Santana looks at the girl warily, wondering what kind of kinky shit she could be into that the Latina hadn't even thought of, before she turns her attention back towards the container in her hands. She slowly peels up one corner of the lid and peeks in to see just about the most baffling thing ever.

"_Cupcakes_?" she intonates curiously, looking at the diva as if she had just handed her a basket full of hand grenades. "Hold up, _cupcakes_ are my 'reward'?"

Rachel nods excitedly again. "What you did was incredibly sweet, so I now reward you with extra sweetness," she smiles, her face practically dripping liquid sugar.

Santana smiles awkwardly before resealing the lid and tossing the container onto the bench, rather reaching out to grab the diva by her sweater and pull her close. "The only sweetness I want is yours," she breathes out before pressing her lips against the diva's, hard, Rachel's moan letting her immediately deepen the embrace this time around.

But, Rachel pulls back abruptly, her hands on the Latina's shoulders and a questioning eyebrow raised. "Are you saying you don't like your reward?" she asks, seemingly slightly self-conscious.

Santana sighs before reaching a hand up to the diva's cheek. "I love the reward, I love cupcakes, I just..." she trails off, quickly looking away as she decides that maybe it's best to _not_ tell the diva what she thought.

Rachel seems to get the gist, though, as her eyes immediately widen and she pulls her head away from the Latina's hand. "You thought your reward was going to be sex?.!" she questions incredulously, taking a full step back and planting her hands firmly on her hips.

"I seriously have the worst fucking timing ever," Quinn's voice comes from the top of the stairwell before she retreats into one of the bedrooms.

Santana rolls her eyes before looking back at the diva. "Well, maybe..." she trails off as she looks away, now feeling like a bit of an asshole.

Rachel can see the shift, and her demeanour softens. She steps forward again and runs a hand down to the Latina's chin before leaning in to kiss her softly. When she pulls away, Santana has a questioning eyebrow raised, and she sighs, reaching her hands out to take the Latina's into her own.

"To me, sex isn't a commodity. It's not something for trade, or barter, and it's not a reward for a deed well done. It's something we'll share together when the time is right, not something one-sided," she says softly, her thumbs playing along the backs of the Latina's hands.

Santana nods as she comprehends the words, and while part of her _really_ wants to ask when the time will be 'right', she bites her tongue, knowing that that question would probably be the most counterproductive thing she could ask. "Ok," is what she comes up with when she finally speaks, albeit softly.

"Ok," Rachel smiles in return. "I should get going."

Santana nods, and Rachel lifts up to reunite their lips once more before gathering her things and taking off.

Santana sighs as she stares at the door. _Maybe tomorrow..._ she muses before turning back towards the inside of the house.

"Fatty, we've got cupcakes!" she yells up the stairwell before grabbing the container and heading into the living room. Might as well enjoy the spoils of war.

* * *

The two ex-cheerios spend over an hour laughing over Quinn's retelling of the assembly, and eating _far_ too many cupcakes, before the doorbell rings. Santana's still chuckling softly as she opens the door, but when she does, her face completely drops. "Holy fucking hell."

Standing on her front porch is Finn with a staggering, heavily beaten Puck hanging off of his shoulder. "Hey," Finn greets awkwardly, his lips pressed thin and his eyes darting around.

Santana just steps back and motions for the boys to come in before sealing the door shut behind them. When she turns around, Finn has a curious eyebrow raised.

"In here," the Latina directs as she heads back towards the living room, waving for Finn to follow.

Quinn is still wearing a smile when Santana re-enters the room, but her face twists into an unreadable assortment of unpleasant expressions when she sees the boys follow in behind. She abruptly stands from the couch. "Oh my god," she breathes out softly, raising a hand over her mouth. "What the fuck _happened_?" she asks softly, curiously.

"Where should I put him?" Finn asks.

Santana rolls her eyes before pinning the boy with an absolute glare, "On the couch, Rhodes Scholar."

Finn's brow furrows, unsure of whether he's just been insulted or not, but he does as instructed, lowering the boy gingerly to lie on his back on the couch.

Quinn immediately crouches down at Puck's side, ghosting a hand over his swollen lip, bloody nose, and heavily bruised eye. She turns back towards the other boy with a look of ice. "What. Happened." she demands firmly.

The boy sighs and runs a hand over his hair with a bit of a shrug. "I found him like that in the locker room. He wouldn't tell me what happened, he just asked me to bring him here."

Santana takes a step towards the couch with a dropped brow and her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Puck!" she near-yells, earning a pained groan in response. "What the fuck happened?"

The mohawked boy slightly coughs before he speaks, though it's strained and slightly altered by his fat lip. "Karofsky, Azimio and Peterson"―_Jock #2_, Santana thinks―"cornered me after practice."

A seething rage washes over the Latina and she drops her fists to her sides, her nails threatening to puncture the skin of her palms with the force she is using. But, surprisingly, she's not the first to speak.

"They're fucking dead," Finn snarls, his own fists balled at his sides.

At that, Quinn's head snaps around and she looks at the boy firmly. "Don't do anything stupid."

Santana takes a deep breath and breathes it out before turning towards the boy as well. Though she wants nothing more than to launch into her own particular brand of sweet, sweet revenge at the moment, she knows the blonde's words make sense.

"Q's right, Hudson. There's no use running face first into oncoming fists."

Finn is slightly incredulous as he speaks. "Well, if nothing else, I _have _to tell Figgins!"

Santana scoffs, "And what do you think _he's_ gonna to do besides figuratively slap them on the wrists and tell them to run along?"

The boy's brow furrows. "But _you_ got suspended...?"

"Double standard," Quinn says absently, her attention back on Puck's numerous injuries.

Santana nods in agreement, but Finn just looks even more confused.

The Latina rolls her eyes. "When girls fight, it's all 'unladylike' and 'unacceptable' and 'we'd better follow school policy down to a T', so we get the fucking book tossed at us. When guys fight, it's all 'boys will be boys' and 'try not to do it again'!"

Finn's face washes over with that strangely absent and vaguely cross-eyed look he gets when he tries to process an overly complex thought, and Santana just shakes her head.

Quinn suddenly looks up from her perch. "S, I need an icepack or something or his face is gonna swell shut."

The Latina nods before quickly heading off to the kitchen, knowing that she's out of cold compress packs due to her own injury. She sighs as she looks into the freezer, her options not being numerous, and grabs the best option before rushing back to the living room.

"Here," she says gently as she holds the item out near the blonde's shoulder.

Quinn turns and looks discriminatingly at the bag before looking up at the Latina. "Hashbrowns?" she questions with an unimpressed tone. "Don't you have frozen peas or something?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "I don't think his face is selective about what vegetable you use." Now the blonde rolls her eyes, and Santana just juts her hand out further, compelling the girl to take the bag. "Besides, it's either that or a frozen pizza," she adds with a bit of a shrug.

Quinn sighs and takes the bag before pressing it softly against the boy's lip. He winces, and the blonde's face immediately twists in sympathy. "I'm sorry," she breathes out softly.

Santana stares at the boy, still feeling a bit of second-hand rage running through her veins, before she notices that Finn is still standing off to her side watching the scene play out. She turns towards him with an eyebrow raised.

"So, uh, thanks for bringing him over and shit, but I'm pretty sure we've got in from here..." she trails off, trying to let the boy know in slightly kinder words that she's not too fond of him being in her house.

Finn looks over and something flickers across his eyes, but it's not rage this time. It's hurt. Santana actually looks down for a moment, feeling a bit bad. Even though she doesn't _get it_, Finn and Puck seem to be pretty good friends. She starts running through things in her mind that she could say to fix the situation, but Finn speaks before she finds the right words.

"Ok," he says dejectedly with a bit of a nod. "Just let me bring in his stuff from the car."

Santana just nods in return and the boy heads back out of the house. The Latina watches Quinn and Puck, Quinn repeatedly running her hand over the boy's mohawk, whispering words that Santana can't hear. It makes her smile. Maybe her harassing both of them into giving each other a chance will actually work out this time...

Finn soon reappears in the doorway with a backpack and a bouquet of flowers, and Santana arches an eyebrow, unable to resist.

"And who the fuck do you think you're giving _those_ to?" she asks, staring pointedly at the flowers.

Quinn turns around at the noise and arches a curious eyebrow of her own.

He rolls his eyes. "They're not mine, they're his," he says plainly, gesturing an arm towards Puck.

Santana and Quinn both turn their attention back to the boy on the couch.

Puck looks pointedly up at Quinn, though he groans slightly as he tries to speak. "They're for you," he smiles, though the swelling makes it slightly crooked. "I was gonna ask you out tonight."

Santana smiles once again, _Go Pucky_, she internally cheers.

Quinn smiles and runs a gentle hand along the boy's cheek before leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips. "Yes," she says simply when she sits back upright, drawing a questioning eyebrow from him. She chuckles softly and shakes her head. "You were going to ask me out, and I am saying 'yes'."

"Fucking A," Puck says, though it's with a bit of a wince, as he smiles.

Santana is smiling wide, and when she chances a glance over at Finn, he's smiling just as wide at her. She immediately furrows her brow.

"Don't get any fucking ideas, Romeo."

Finn just rolls his eyes with a bit of a scoff. "Whatever. I guess I'll get going then," he announces, and Santana nods in return.

He walks over to the couch, reaching a hand out to slide it against Puck's before they clasp together slightly.

"Thanks man," the mohawked boy coughs out.

Finn shrugs. "I just wish I could've been there to help."

Puck scoffs lightly, waving his large arm out dismissively. "Those fat fucks still would've had us outnumbered... it just would've been two of us laid up like little bitches instead of just one," he smiles.

Finn chuckles lightly. "Alright, well, take it easy man," he smiles before the pair pound fists and he heads towards the door.

Santana follows him out into the hallway and he turns around with a furrowed brow.

"Really? You have to _make sure_ I leave? What, you think I'm gonna fucking rob the place or something?" he asks defensively as he pulls on his down vest.

The Latina rolls her eyes. "Calm the fuck down, Hudson. I just came out here to say," she lowers her voice, nearing a loud whisper. "―away from the other two―that we should talk soon."

The boy looks half mortified and half, to no one's surprise, confused.

Santana rolls her eyes again. "About getting _back_ at those three fucking stooges," she clarifies.

"Oh!" Finn breathes out in relief, his eyes wide in realization, before he nods. "Definitely," he says simply before automatically holding his fist out for the girl to pound. Once he processes that it's out there, he slightly jerks it back before making the decision to just leave it there, looking up with an eyebrow raised.

Santana just nods before somewhat reluctantly, and entirely half-heartedly, meeting the boy's fist with her own. "I guess I'll be in touch."

"Cool," the boy says breezily before turning to leave.

Santana closes and locks the door behind him before turning back towards the inside of the house, her face splitting into an absolutely ferocious grin. _Revenge._

* * *

**Can't say for sure what day next week's update will be up, but it'll be there :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I didn't want to rush this one. ****On tap today we've ****a tiny bit of Quicktana, then it's **_**all**_** Pezberry ;)**

**Uh, yeah, also: ****NSFW**

* * *

Santana sets her alarm for 7:30 Wednesday morning, wanting to wake up early enough to see Quinn and Puck before school as well as run errands and make sure everything is ready for her and Rachel's adventure tonight. Puck stayed the night after practically begging, going on and on about having a Jewish mother and getting a verbal smackdown and how Santana couldn't possibly understand because she's not Jewish. Santana didn't bother to argue under the circumstances, the boy being broken enough already―at least physically.

She wakes feeling surprisingly refreshed, having slept right through the night―unsure of whether it's because her eye is healing unnaturally fast or because she was so tired from her lack of sleep the night prior that she essentially lapsed into a comatose state. Either way, she couldn't care less right now as she smiles, knowing that no matter how things play out, today is gonna be a hell of a day.

She showers and dresses herself before checking to see whether her two current houseguests are awake yet. They are, and she hears them chatting away in the kitchen as she heads downstairs.

"Hey!" Quinn greets in surprise as the Latina enters the room, looking up from her spot at the kitchen table with a smile. Puck looks up in equal surprise and just shoots a wave.

"Hey guys," she greets softly in return.

"Didn't expect to see you up this early," the blonde says simply.

Santana shrugs as she walks over to grab a class from the cabinet. "Got things to do today," she replies, shooting for nonchalant but unable to fight the enthusiasm that intrudes on her voice.

Quinn arches a highly questioning eyebrow. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're almost... _excited_ about something..." she slightly teases.

Santana smiles wide, her back to the girl as she pours herself a glass of orange juice. "Well... maybe..." she trails off somewhat mysteriously. When she turns towards the pair the smile is still on her lips and Puck raises an eyebrow to match the blonde's.

"Are we in 'The Twilight Zone'?" he asks, leaning over towards Quinn as he stares at the Latina with wide eyes, and Santana just rolls her eyes as she takes a seat across from the pair.

"What are you up to?" the blonde asks curiously.

Santana's smile spreads as she proceeds to tell the pair of her plans for the night, and when she finishes, both are staring at her in slight astonishment.

"Wow," Quinn breathes out.

"You're making the rest of us look like fucking assholes," Puck says simply, chancing a bit of a glance over at the blonde.

Santana chuckles. "Well, I know what the girl likes," she shrugs with a slightly smug smile. "And on _that_ note... Q," she turns towards the blonde with an arched eyebrow. "Any chance you could stay at B's tonight?"

The blonde's face twists in complete revulsion. "Ew, yes, _definitely_. There's only one reason you would ask me to get out of the house, and I _really_ do _not_ want to hear you and fucking Man-Hands go at it."

The Latina is so lost in thoughts of what she's gonna do to Rachel that she doesn't even register the name that the blonde used, a perma-smile plastered across her face.

Puck just shakes his head with a bit of a laugh as he watches her. "So tonight's the night, huh?"

"Well... _hopefully_..." Santana replies softly, a little bashfully, looking down at the table.

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Wait, wait, wait... _the_ night..." she trails off curiously. Santana just nods. "You mean you two haven't..." she raises a hand to her chest as she slightly gags. "Haven't _done_ that yet?"

The Latina shrugs. "Not _yet_."

The blonde's eyes slightly widen. "Wow."

"Right?" Puck laughs.

"Well now the 'excited' part makes sense," Quinn muses aloud.

Santana just smiles again, something so foreign yet so natural to her these days.

The blonde shakes her head slightly before looking over at the clock. She lightly nudges Puck's shoulder with her own. "We should get going," she says simply, gesturing her head towards the device.

The boy looks over and nods in agreement before standing, albeit a little gingerly, holding a hand against his tender ribs. "Well fuck, San," he starts as he walks around the table, pulling the girl up and into a hug. "Have a great fucking night," he breathes out softly before pulling out of the embrace. "Pun _totally_ intended," he wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

Santana chuckles and rolls her eyes. "You, too, Pucky," she winks, shooting her eyes briefly towards the blonde across the table in indication, drawing a roll of the eyes from the boy as well.

Quinn walks over and hugs her too. "Well, I'm just gonna say thanks for sparing me from being here while... while _that_ is happening," she says it with a bit of disgust but also with a smile, and Santana can tell that the blonde is happy for her―even if she'll never admit it.

The Latina chuckles again. "Yeah, yeah, ok losers. Have fun at school," she teases, earning an eye roll from the blonde and a flip of the bird from Puck as they head out towards the front hall. Santana just smiles and heads to the fridge to find some proper breakfast.

* * *

It's the beginning of the lunch period when Santana pulls up to WMHS, just parallel parking on the street rather than heading to her own spot, knowing she could get in relatively deep shit if she actually goes onto school property. She turns off the ignition and grabs her phone from her pocket to text a certain young diva.

'Come outside' she taps out simply.

'Um... Ok... Outside where?' comes the reply.

'Out front.'

'...?'

She rolls her eyes. 'Trust me?'

'Ok... I'll be out shortly.'

Santana smiles as she puts the phone back into her pocket, climbing out of the car and walking around it to take a spot leaning against the passenger side. It's a relatively mild day for late December―cold enough to maintain the Christmas blanket of snow covering everything green, but warm and sunny enough to almost give the false impression of an early spring afternoon. The lack of snow in the forecast is really playing into Santana's hands, ensuring a relatively smooth drive to and from their destination.

The vitamin D from the sunshine is only enhancing her uncharacteristically good mood, and her smile spreads as she sees Rachel emerge from the large building. The diva approaches slowly with a raised eyebrow that the Latina is sure she can see from all the way across the courtyard.

Santana stands upright as the diva gets close, stepping up onto the sidewalk, but not onto the pathway that leads up to the building.

Rachel stops a few feet away, her arms wrapped around her unjacketed torso in an attempt to hold in some of her body heat. "You're up to something... you're being all mysterious... what's going on?"

Santana chuckles, "Wouldn't you like to know..." she trails off with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

The diva rolls her eyes before glancing from left to right in a bit of paranoia. "You shouldn't be here," she says softly. "You could get in a lot of trouble."

"Nope," Santana shakes her head. "This," she gestures her hand down along the sidewalk she's standing on. "Is public property, not school property," she explains with a smile. "Now, if I were to do something like this," she takes a step forward so that she's standing on the pathway. "_Then_ I'd be breaking the rules," she smirks.

Rachel chances a full on look back at the school, as if some sort of alarm bell would have gone off and security would've come running as soon as the Latina stepped foot on the property. She steps in close, placing her hands on Santana's hips before stepping forward, essentially forcing the Latina back onto the sidewalk.

Santana arches an eyebrow.

Rachel just slaps her shoulder. "You've already gotten in enough trouble for me, don't go doing something overly stupid like getting yourself arrested," she chides firmly.

The Latina just smiles in amusement as she wraps her arms around the diva's waist, starting to take more steps backwards, pulling the girl along with her, as some of the smokers on the sidewalk look on in curiosity. It's not long before Santana's back presses up against the back door of the car, and she reaches a hand down to open the passenger side door.

"Get in," she says firmly, gesturing her head towards the open door.

The diva's brow furrows as she stares down at the vehicle. "Don't be ridiculous, Santana, I have classes," she protests, though Santana can tell that the objection is half-hearted.

She just shakes her head, "Nope. Not according to the attendance office and not according to Kevin..."

"Uhh..." the diva breathes out awkwardly, her eyes having slightly widened, completely taken aback and suddenly highly confused.

Santana just leans forward to press her lips briefly against the shorter girl's before leaning back with a broad smile. "Get in," she repeats simply with a raise of her eyebrows.

* * *

After Rachel heads back into the school to grab the things she'll need over Christmas break, they take off, Santana having a very specific plan of where they're going and a rough timeline of when things need to happen. They only drive for about 15 minutes before they pull into the driveway of the Berry household and the diva turns towards her with a questioning eyebrow raised. "You got me out of school early so that you could drive me home?"

Santana rolls her eyes as she turns off the ignition. "No, but we _do_ need to stop by so that you can pack a bag."

The diva's eyebrow lifts further. "A bag?" she repeats in complete confusion. "A bag of what?"

The Latina lightly chuckles as she undoes her seatbelt. "An overnight bag," she smiles softly as she looks back over at the girl.

"Oh," Rachel breathes out in surprise, both of her eyebrows now threatening to meet the top of her head.

Santana just smiles further. "Let's go get you packed."

They spend about 20 minutes in Rachel's room as the girl agonizes over what to pack, lamenting that she 'wasn't given adequate time to prepare for such a venture'. Santana rolls her eyes at the diva's indecisiveness, but when Rachel takes off for (and spends forever in) the washroom to collect the things she'll need, she takes the opportunity to sneak one of the girl's fancier pairs of heels into the bag.

When they get back to the car, Santana tosses the diva's duffle bag into the back seat to join her own bag before grabbing her bag to fish something out. When she climbs into the driver's side seat, Rachel already sitting shotgun, she hands the diva the item.

Rachel just looks over with a curious eyebrow raised. "Um, thanks?" she says confusedly as she looks back down at her own Tupperware container.

Santana smiles. "You didn't have lunch," she says simply.

"Yes, that is a very astute observation considering you pulled me out of school at the beginning of lunch period..." the diva trails off, seemingly no more satisfied with the Latina's answer than she is with the container in her lap.

Santana rolls her eyes, "Open it."

Rachel stares pointedly at the Latina for a moment before looking back down at the plastic between her hands, slowly peeling it open from the corner, finding inside a saran-wrapped sandwich, some fresh fruit and a brownie. She looks up in unwavering confusion.

"I went to Green Iguana this morning and got you some food for the ride," she smiles. "A southwest sandwich and a vegan brownie, the same thing you had when we went there. And some bonus fruit, 'cause I'm just that awesome," she says with playful smugness.

The diva's face splits into an impossibly wide smile and she shifts the container into one of her hands before leaning over and tugging on the shoulder of Santana's jacket, pulling her in for a tender kiss. "Thank you," she breathes out shyly as she settles back into her seat. "That's incredibly thoughtful of you." She pauses for a moment before she seems to register the rest of the Latina's sentence. "Wait, what ride?"

Santana doesn't respond, she just leans over Rachel to pop open the glove box, fishing out her iPod dock and sticking it into the lighter socket before leaning back into her seat, the diva still looking at her with a questioning eyebrow raised.

She smiles. "We've got a long trip ahead of us, so some music might be nice. Feel free to plug in your phone," she gestures a hand towards the dock.

Rachel's eyes widen. "You're gonna let _me_ control the music?" she questions in slight disbelief.

Santana just nods. "Consider it part of your Christmas gift," she winks.

The diva's eyes completely light up. "Is that what all of this is?" she asks curiously. "My Christmas gift?"

Santana shrugs coolly and fires up the ignition. "Maybe..."

Rachel smiles impossibly wide, "Oh my god!" as she practically bounces up and down in her seat, and Santana chuckles as she starts to drive. "What are we doing?"

"It's a surprise," the Latina grins, knowing how much the girl _loves_ (see: hates) surprises.

"Ok..." the singer's brow slightly furrows. "So where are we going that's so far away?" she tries lamely.

Santana just laughs and shakes her head. "I see you still haven't looked up the definition of 'surprise'."

Rachel groans in frustration and rolls her eyes as she collapses back into her seat and starts to unwrap the sandwich.

"I'm totally getting you a dictionary for your birthday," Santana ribs, earning a cutting glare at the side of her head that just makes her smile further.

* * *

They drive for about 2 hours, Rachel shifting into a much lighter mood once she's fed and gets her own music playing―mostly an assortment of Broadway numbers, including an insane amount of Barbra Streisand, naturally―before they pull off the highway in a small village called Monroeville.

Santana shifts into park just outside of a service station before looking over to the diva in the passenger side seat. "I told you to pee before we left," she smirks.

Rachel rolls her eyes as she undoes her seatbelt. "Well, that was _before_ you informed me of the fact that we'd be driving for the entire remainder of eternity."

The Latina chuckles and shakes her head as she kills the ignition, using her other hand to undo her own seatbelt. "Ok, princess, let's just go in. I should to grab something to snack on anyway."

Rachel climbs out of the car and Santana makes it about half way out of the vehicle before she catches glimpse of a face that makes her own face drop completely. _What the fuck is he doing here?_ she wonders, quickly raising a hand over her face and dropping back into her seat, closing the door and burying her head in the steering wheel.

Rachel soon notices that Santana isn't outside of the car and leans back in the door with a confused eyebrow raised. "Aren't you coming?"

"Uh, no," the Latina stammers out awkwardly. "I changed my mind, I'm not all that hungry," she lies, her stomach growling at her in objection.

The diva stares at her in confusion for a moment before slightly shrugging. "Ok then..." she draws out warily. "I'll be back shortly."

Santana's grip on the steering wheel is making her knuckles whiten and ache, but she can't seem to calm herself down, her breathing going absolutely insane. _Why the fuck would he be _here_ of all places? I don't give a shit. Fuck it. Whatever._ She tries in earnest to convince herself she doesn't care, but her body is reacting otherwise and she can't compel herself to lift her head for fear that the man in question might catch a glimpse of her.

It's about 5 minutes of this before she can hear the passenger side door click open, then feel the car shift as Rachel settles back into her seat, then feel the car jerk as the door closes once more. The diva stays silent, though, likely out of confusion more so than anything else.

Santana breathes out a long sigh before lifting her head, chancing a glance around at their surroundings to ensure that she's in the clear before looking over to the diva. "So, we good to go?" she asks, shooting for nonchalance but knowing that her speech is too uneven, too rushed. Rachel has an eyebrow arched but just nods wordlessly, and Santana nods lightly in return before turning the car back on and getting back on the road.

They get back on the freeway and continue on for about 15 minutes of music assisted silence before the diva finally breaks it. "If it's none of my business, feel free to refrain from answering, but I'd be lying if I said I'm not curious..." Santana keeps her eyes forward. "What happened back there?"

"Nothing," she responds absently, running a slightly nervous hand through her hair.

Rachel furrows her brow. "No... that was quite clearly _something_." She looks over the Latina once more―her slouched posture, her hesitance to make eye contact, the firmness of her grip on the steering wheel. "You were happy, and now you look... stressed."

Santana releases a deep sigh. As much as she doesn't want to talk about it, she really should know by now that the diva on the other side of the car can read her emotions quite well (not that she's doing an exceptional job of hiding them at the moment). "I saw someone," she says simply, disinterestedly, like she's talking about something completely innocuous. "Someone from my past... and it just kind of spooked me. It's nothing," she reiterates with a shrug, still keeping her eyes focused on the road.

Rachel doesn't believe the faux ambivalence, but decides not to push it. Santana's trying to do something nice for her and the last thing she wants to do is make her regret it. "Ok," she cedes softly.

Santana's eyes widen in slight surprise that the diva let it go, and she finally chances a quick glance over at the girl, who is smiling kindly. "Ok," she smiles, slightly in thanks, as she focuses once more on reaching their destination.

* * *

It's about another hour of driving, most of it spent on the freeway, before Santana pulls up to a decidedly sketchy looking motel, quickly killing the ignition and climbing out of the car wordlessly, with Rachel following along curiously.

They enter the small rental booth and the clerk, an older man with kind eyes, turns and greets them with a wrinkled smile. "Hi there, how can I help you today?"

Santana chances a glance at her watch, "Uh, yeah, hi. Can I get a room for like... 15 minutes?" she looks up with an eyebrow raised.

Rachel looks at the Latina with wide eyes, but doesn't say anything.

The clerk taps a sign just above his right shoulder. "Sorry, we only rent by the hour."

Santana slightly groans, _We really only need fifteen minutes_, before looking at the clerk again. "Alright, how much for an hour, then?"

"$15 plus a $50 key deposit. Upfront, cash only."

The Latina just nods as she retrieves her wallet from her jacket. "Ok, that's fine. I'll take a room for an hour."

The man nods as he starts to ring up the purchase.

It's moments later when Santana emerges from the office, $65 lighter but with a room key in hand and Rachel following close behind. When she's sure they're out of sight from the glass booth, though, Rachel slaps Santana's shoulder, hard, staring at her disbelievingly.

The Latina spins around abruptly, pointing a finger out in mock-seriousness. "You know, if you keep that up, I'm gonna start to think I'm in an abusive relationship..." she trails off with a slight smirk.

The diva rolls her eyes. "What in god's name do you think you're doing bringing me here to the 'Bates Motel'?"

Santana's face splits into an absolutely amazed smile as she steps close to the diva, running her hands along the small girl's hips. "Horror movie reference... _me gusta_," she raises her eyebrows.

Rachel's brow drops and she slaps the Latina's hands away. "Focus, please. Do you really think you're getting sex at some cheap motel on the side of the freeway?" she asks incredulously, planting her hands on her hips.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Ok, a) we're nowhere near the freeway anymore; and, b) I didn't say _anything_ about sex." She suddenly grins. "Though we _do_ have the room for an hour, if that's what you _really_ wanna spend that time doing," she pulls the diva in closer by the hem of her jacket and licks her lips, shooting a completely obvious glance down the girl's body.

Rachel scoffs. "You've brought me to a motel with an _hourly rate_... what am I supposed to think we're here for? And, for the record, this is not exactly the way to 'what's inside my pants'... in fact, it's pretty much the opposite way."

The Latina just shakes her head with a bit of a smile. "I didn't bring you here for that."

"So then why the decrepit motel room?" the diva questions curiously with an eyebrow raised.

Santana just smiles and reaches down to take the diva's small hands into her own. "Well, I don't particularly want to go out for a fancy dinner dressed like _this_," she shoots her eyes down at the sweatpants she's wearing in indication. "_Or_ smelling like a three-hour car ride, for that matter... so I figured we could use some place to get ready for the night."

"Oh," Rachel voices in surprise, her eyes wide, before a shy smile sets across her features and she reaches a hand up to brush some flyaways out of the Latina's face. "You know, you're really a lot better at this 'planning' thing than you let on..." she observes with a bit of a grin.

Santana just smiles before leaning in to kiss the diva softly. "I'm good at everything," she winks, earning a roll of the eyes from the shorter girl as she turns to lead her by the hand back towards the car. She opens the back door and throws both of the duffle bags over one of her shoulders before taking the diva's hand into her own again and leading her towards their room.

Rachel suddenly stops walking, though, pulling Santana to a stop, and the Latina turns around with a questioning eyebrow raised.

"I don't have anything to wear to a 'fancy dinner'," the diva voices softly, sadly, in sudden realization, staring blankly ahead as she takes mental inventory of what she packed.

Santana smiles wide, "Yeah you do."

Now it's Rachel's turn to arch an eyebrow.

The Latina just nods. "Trust me."

Rachel's eyebrow doesn't drop, but she doesn't object when Santana tugs on her hand and starts to walk again. They get to the door and Santana struggles slightly with the key, but it eventually works, and she opens the door to their temporary change room.

It really is an ugly place―the exterior looking filthy, dingy, dated. Really, it's everything you'd expect for $15. As soon as she takes her first step into the room, she's hit by a disgustingly musty smell, and when she manages to flick the light switch on the wall, the scene in front of her matches the smell. The room itself, in its entirety, is coated in a generous layer of dust; the curtains as well as the walls look like they used to be red, though they are now somewhere in the neighbourhood of a pink-grey hybrid; the bed sheets are far from pristine, littered with what looks like hair and some not-so-subtle spots of seminal fluid; and the carpet is stained with a vast array of colours that make Santana really happy she doesn't know what's on it, though she does make a mental note to not go barefoot in the room. She's not even sure she wants to chance a glance at the bathroom and she's suddenly very glad that sex _wasn't_ the plan here.

She steps in far enough so that Rachel can follow in, and if there's one thing that she's sure of, it's that the characteristically high maintenance girl behind her will have an appropriate comment.

Rachel raises a hand over her nose and mouth in absolute revulsion as she observes the room. "So... this is... _quaint_," she forces out through the barrier, which makes Santana laugh.

"I don't even know where to put down the bags," the Latina bemoans, though she's quite honestly entertained by it all―especially the diva's reaction. "It's either pube city," she gestures to the bed. "Or puke central," she points to the floor.

Rachel chuckles lightly despite her obvious disgust. "Um, maybe the bathroom? I mean, assuming it's tile, it should be relatively clean...?" she looks over uncertainly, still speaking through her hand.

Santana shakes her head. "I'm pretty sure that nothing in here is clean," she smirks, though she does advance to the bathroom to take a look.

Shockingly, the purely white tile and porcelain room looks like the single spot in the 'suite' (if you can even call it that) that is well maintained. Not a spot of grime, no mildew, clearly no mould, not a single discernable stain of any kind.

"I think they pressure wash this shit," she muses with a bit of a smile as she looks back over to Rachel, who is just closing the door.

"Wonderful," the diva says morosely, though there is a bit of excitement at the prospect of actual cleanliness. "We can share seating either on the toilet or the edge of the bathtub."

Santana smiles before heading into the washroom, placing the diva's bag down in the bathtub. "So, you can get ready in here and I'll brave it out there in sketchville," she calls out with a bit of a smile as she checks herself in the mirror.

Rachel soon appears in the doorway. "Yes, I think I would prefer to prepare myself in here, where I'm sure nothing will crawl on me."

The Latina shudders, not even having considered the idea that they might be sharing the room with _other_ occupants. "Ugh, you're making me just want to go out in sweats."

The diva chuckles softly with a shake of her head as she enters the room, sliding past the Latina to take a seat on the closed toilet lid. "So... you said I have something to wear tonight?" she asks, looking up with an expectant eyebrow raised.

Santana smiles wide, putting her bag down on the counter and opening it to grab a plastic shopping bag from inside. "Here," she says softly, handing the bag to the diva, biting her lip in nervous anticipation, unsure if the girl will even like what's inside.

Rachel looks at the bag discerningly before looking back up at the Latina. "You bought me an outfit?" The ex-cheerio nods, and Rachel slightly shakes her head. "I'm starting to think that you spent entirely too much money on whatever it is we're doing tonight... lunch, gas for the drive here―not to mention the drive home―the 'fancy dinner', whatever's in this bag..."

Santana waves a dismissive hand. "It's just money. I'd rather spend it on you than on useless shit for myself." Her eyes slightly widen as she registers her own words, and widen slightly further as she realizes it's the truth.

The diva smiles shyly, still thinking that it's too much, before she turns her attention back to the bag. She reaches in and pulls out a long piece of black, silky material―a dress. She stands so that she can observe it in its full length. "Wow," she breathes out softly, shifting towards the mirror and holding it up against her body. "Black, though," she observes as she runs a hand over the fabric. "You're really trying to convert me to your way of dress, aren't you?" she questions playfully.

Santana chuckles and rolls her eyes, raising her hands in innocence as she meets the diva's eyes in the mirror. "It's not my fault you're so prejudiced against black."

The diva scoffs.

"Besides," the Latina continues. "Everyone needs a little black dress. It'll be the most versatile thing in your closet, I guarantee it," she smiles.

Rachel smiles in return, draping the dress over one of her arms before turning towards the Latina and lifting up to kiss her softly. "Thank you," she breathes out softly.

Santana shrugs. "It's a gift to me, too, 'cause I get to look at you in it," she wiggles her eyebrows and the diva laughs. "Oh, and I packed you a pair of heels in your bag," she smiles, and the diva raises a questioning eyebrow. "I can be pretty stealth sometimes," she smirks. "Check the bottom."

Rachel smiles wide and leans in to kiss the girl tenderly once more. "Ok, now get out so I can get ready," she says simply, softly pushing the Latina towards the door.

Santana just smiles and picks her bag back up before heading out into the main room. She looks around again with a bit of a groan, wondering where she's going to get ready. There's a short armoire on the wall opposite the bed that has a small television set resting on it and a mirror mounted behind it, and she figures that's probably her best bet.

About ten minutes later, Santana's dressed in her own dress―a red, strapless, tango-style number―as well as a pair of black stilettos, and has slicked her hair back into a tight ponytail. She's just applying her mascara in the mirror when Rachel emerges from the bathroom.

"So... how do I look?" the diva questions through a smile as she slowly spins to show off the outfit, knowing damn well that she looks spectacular.

Santana looks over from her position hunched over the mirror, and her mouth―already slightly open to aid in the application of her mascara―goes completely slack. The black dress fits so snug that it's leaving very little to the imagination and the cut is so fucking flattering on the diva that Santana's half sure she's going to have a coronary. The sight is breathtaking―the tight fit perfectly outlining her best, ahem, _ass_et, and, when she spins back around, the plunging neckline nicely displaying her second best assets. Santana can barely move let alone even think about forming any kind of verbal response.

Rachel smiles wide and clasps her hands in front of her body excitedly, the Latina's response being confirmation of her own assumption, but when Santana stands upright, her own breath catches, the Latina being quite the sight to her eyes as well.

Santana swallows hard, trying to lubricate her suddenly completely dry mouth, before clearing her throat slightly. "That dress looks fucking amazing on you," she says gruffly as she abandons the tube of mascara and starts to approach the diva, wrapping her arms around the girl. "As a matter of fact, so would I," she smiles, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Rachel rolls her eyes, reaching her hands down to tug at the sides of the dress a little self-consciously. "It's a little snug at the hips," she explains.

Santana smiles and nods in agreement. "Yeah, your body's a little more curvaceous than mine..." she licks her lips, ghosting her hands over the diva's sides, her eyes following along the journey, before gripping the hips in question and pulling the diva's waist flush against her own. She looks back up with an eyebrow arched. "And I mean that in the _sexiest_ way possible," she smirks, squeezing the girl's hips in appreciation.

Rachel smiles bashfully in return. "I actually _really_ like it," she says softly as she looks down her body and pulls out the hem of the dress to look at it.

The Latina smiles wide, a lightness running through her body at the diva's approval. "Well, good," she says lamely, looking away as she starts to feel a little flush herself.

The diva reaches a hand up to the Latina's cheek, gently coaxing the girl to look at her again. "And _you_," she says pointedly, shooting an appreciative glance down the girl's body. "Look sexy as hell yourself," she smiles.

Santana smiles shyly, now entirely sure there's a blush across her cheeks before she leans in to kiss the diva firmly. Rachel moans softly, contentedly, and Santana deepens the embrace―but it's not rushed. There's no sense of urgency, it's just slow, languid exploration.

When she pulls back, it's with a satisfied smile. "I'm thinking this would be much more romantic minus the smell," she smirks, drawing a bit of a chuckle from the diva, before she glances down at her watch. "As much as I'd _not_ love to stay here, we should get going," she smiles softly, the time already nearing 5:30.

The diva chuckles softly and nods. "Ok."

They repack their bags before heading out, Rachel heading to the car to pack the bags and Santana heading to the booth to drop off the room key and get her deposit back. When the Latina climbs back into the car, it's pretty obvious that some of the excitement has washed over the diva again, the girl practically bouncing up and down in her seat. Santana slightly chuckles as she does up her seatbelt, trying her hardest to tear her eyes away from the diva's barely-restrained bouncing chest.

"So... where are we off to now?" Rachel asks curiously, drawing the Latina's eyes back up to her face.

"Dinner," she replies flippantly as she fires up the ignition, the diva's reflexive groan making her smile again. "You're so impatient. You're like a child," she chuckles as she shifts the vehicle into motion.

The diva huffs and crosses her arms, and she manages to stay silent for almost a full five minutes before a road sign catches her attention. "Cleveland?" she says curiously. "You brought me all the way to Cleveland for dinner?"

Santana rolls her eyes slightly and shakes her head with a chuckle. "Yes, the best food in the world is obviously here in the Cleve."

"So we're here for something else..." Rachel fills in the blanks.

The Latina just smiles. "You'll see."

* * *

The pair dine at what Santana's convinced is the fanciest restaurant she's ever been to, the service staff's black ties and serious demeanour as well as the menu prices convincing her of such. It's amazing how the more expensive a place is the smaller their portions are, but when it tastes so fucking good, it just doesn't even matter. After the meal, the highly satisfied pair climb back into the Latina's car and drive for about another 15 minutes before Santana parallel parks on a side street.

"Where are we?" the diva asks curiously, staring at the tall buildings surrounding them.

"You'll see," Santana reiterates before climbing out of the car, a reluctant Rachel following suit. She walks around the car to meet the diva on the sidewalk.

"Thank you for dinner," Rachel says softly, reaching out to take the Latina's hands into her own. "It was delicious... and _way_ too expensive," she adds pointedly.

Santana rolls her eyes with a chuckle, leaning forward to press her lips against the diva's. "I told you, nothing's too good for you, ok?" she smiles.

Rachel looks down with a shy smile and a slight blush across her cheeks, and Santana just moves to link her arm with the diva's before starting a slow stroll towards the main strip. They walk on in silence, Rachel's head resting on the Latina's shoulder, until they're just about to round the corner.

"So..." Santana starts as they step onto the much busier street, causing the diva to lift her head as well as an eyebrow. "I know you've probably seen the real thing... on Broadway or whatever... _but_―" she gestures an arm up to the marquee on the building in front of them.

Rachel follows the gesture and her jaw immediately drops, her eyes wide. "You're taking me to see 'Rent'?.?" she near-yells out in pure excitement, practically bouncing up and down against the Latina's side.

Santana slightly winces at the volume, but when the excited diva turns towards her with a wide smile and doting eyes, a wide smile spreads across her own face and her heart skips a beat. _I hit it out of the fucking park_. "It's just a local production," she shrugs slightly.

Rachel reaches her hands up to either sides of the Latina's face and pulls the girl down for a tender kiss. When they part, the diva slides her hands down to the collar of the ex-cheerio's coat and looks down with a shy smile once more. "I've never dated anyone so thoughtful... anyone who actually cared about _my_ interests." She looks up with adoring eyes, eyes that seem to be nearing tears as far as Santana can tell; but they're not the creepy I-want-too-get-the-fuck-out-of-here tears, rather happy tears, tears that make Santana just want to hold the girl close.

Santana smiles softly, reaching her free hand up to tuck hair that does not need tucking behind the diva's ears, using the action more for soothing purposes than for anything practical. For a moment she considers being her usual smug self, but thinks the better of it as she looks at the girl's tear-rimmed eyes. She speaks tenderly, running the pad of her thumb gently across the girl's bottom lids. "Well then, you deserve better than what you've had."

Rachel just shakes her head and looks down again. "I... I just don't even understand why you're with me."

Santana's eyes widen in incredulity and she looks around for a moment before guiding the diva back onto the side street and wrapping her arms around the girl's waist firmly, clasping her hands together and letting them rest on the swell of the diva's ass. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

Rachel just shakes her head, her eyes still fixed elsewhere.

"Rachel," the Latina breathes out softly, leaning forward to kiss the side of the girl's head. "I don't know how you ever got the idea that you're not worth everything, because you are. Sometimes I actually think that I'm not good enough for you," she sighs out, and this seems to get the diva's attention as the girl looks back at her in disbelief. Santana raises a hand to run it down the side of the diva's head before letting it rest on her neck. "You want to know why I'm with you?" The diva nods, albeit sheepishly, and Santana sighs again. "I'm with you because you're smart, and you're funny sometimes, and you make me feel happy―which not many people can do... not to mention the fact you're actually pretty fucking hot," she slightly smirks, earning a bit of a chuckle from the shorter girl. She waits for Rachel's eyes to meet her own again before she continues. "But, beyond all of that? We match. We fit together. You know it and I know it. I have no fucking idea why, but we just work. I guess sometimes things don't have to make sense, but this is probably the thing I'm most sure of right now. Me and you, and that's it. That's all it is and that's all it needs to be, alright?"

The diva's eyes go watery again, and this time a tear manages to slip out. She's completely taken aback, and seemingly―for the first time in her life, Santana's sure―at a loss for words. She just nods slowly in affirmation for a few moments. "Alright," she breathes out softly when she finally speaks, tasting the salt of her tear as it hits her lips.

Santana smiles and returns her hand to the diva's face to lightly brush away the track of the diva's tear. "Alright then. Let's go see this supposedly awesome musical, which _I've_ never seen before, and I'm sure you'll find an incredibly appropriate way to thank me for it afterwards," she winks, drawing a bit of a teary chuckle from the shorter girl.

"Ok," Rachel smiles. "And, for the record, you're going to love it."

Santana's smile spreads. "I bet I will," she says confidently before leaning in to brush her lips against the diva's once more. "Shall we?" she asks gently, dropping her hand to take one of the diva's into her own, and the diva nods. "Good."

* * *

It's close to three hours later, the time pushing on 11pm, before the show lets out and the pair practically burst out of the theatre, Rachel so full of energy that she's almost skipping along as they walk hand in hand. Santana chuckles at the diva, who is talking a mile a minute, although she kind of feels it too―the rush. That strange rush of residual adrenaline that you feel after you've been pulled into another world for three hours, especially pertinent when those three hours are capped off with an epic musical number.

"Just, oh my god," the diva continues excitedly. "I don't even know what to say!"

Santana chuckles again. "I find that pretty hard to believe," she teases with a bit of a smirk, earning a light slap on the shoulder.

"I just, I can't even explain it!" Rachel presses on, her hands held out in amazement. "There is _nothing_ like this feeling! I feel like I could run a marathon right now... or like I took some incredible sort of drug, and it's just... amazing!" she looks over with a wide smile that makes Santana's smile spread, too.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," the Latina says simply.

"Enjoyed it?.?" Rachel asks in slight disbelief. "I _loved_ it! And local production or not, that cast was just incredible! I mean, though I did hear some sharp notes here and there, it was certainly nothing to balk at."

Santana rolls her eyes but smiles softly as she looks over at the shorter girl. "_You_ could have done better."

Rachel looks down with an incredibly deep blush across her face and the widest smile Santana's sure she's ever seen cross the girl's face as they round the corner to the side street.

Once they reach the car, Santana unlocks the doors with the fob, but when Rachel starts to head towards the passenger side, she tugs her back in. Rachel's body comes to rest on hers in such a comfortably familiar way, and Santana smiles.

"I'm glad you liked your gift," she breathes out as she wraps her arms around the diva's torso and the diva's arms automatically hook around her neck.

"_Loved_," Rachel corrects simply before rising to her toes and tugging on the Latina's neck, letting their lips meet again, softly, sweetly.

When the diva pulls away, Santana licks her lips. "We've got a long ride back."

The diva arches an eyebrow. "Well, we could always go back to the fleabag inn?" she suggests with a bit of a smirk.

Santana chuckles and nods lightly, "Totally an option. I'm thinking we could cuddle up in the bathtub overnight."

Rachel nods in agreement. "And we could use our bags as pillows."

The Latina just smiles before pulling the diva in further for a tight hug. She can feel Rachel's heartbeat against her chest and she's pretty sure the shorter girl can feel hers, too. Part of her just wants to stay standing here forever, with her arms wrapped around this tiny girl, letting their hearts beat in tandem, creating a sweeter sound than any she's ever heard before. She sighs, though, figuring it's better to get back on the road sooner than later. Even given the time of night and the probable lack of traffic, it's still a solid three hour drive back to Lima. She leans to place a soft kiss on the diva's neck before pulling back.

"Then again, my bed is probably more comfortable than a bathtub," she smiles softly.

The diva's wearing a bit of a pout at the lost contact, but it quickly turns into a bit of a smirk. "_And_ there's no bed patrol..."

Santana looks up in mock-thought. "You know, I'm not too sure the motel would have bed patrol either..." she looks back at the diva with a bit of a smirk.

Rachel rolls her eyes before she arches an eyebrow. "Remember what I said you wouldn't get at the motel?"

Santana furrows her brow slightly in thought before looking at the girl again in realization. _Sex_. She just nods.

The diva's face splits into a smile. "Well then, might I suggest an alternate location?"

Santana just nods again, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape.

Rachel smirks, raising a hand to the Latina's chin and gently pushing her mouth shut before leaning in to meet her lips again. "Three hours," she breathes out softly.

Santana feels like a bobblehead as she nods wordlessly yet again. _Longest three hours of my life_.

* * *

As expected, it's just past 2am when Santana pulls into her driveway and kills the ignition. The slightly more than three hour drive was, once again, filled with a soundtrack of Broadway and Barbra, but Santana didn't mind at all, her mind focused on other things. She's tired, but her mind is racing as she glances over at Rachel, who has been napping for about the past hour.

"Hey," she breathes out softly, reaching a hand out to run it along the diva's cheek. The girl's eyes slowly slide open and a tired smile spreads across her face. "We're here," the Latina says simply before leaning over the centre console to gently press her lips against the diva's.

This action seems to wake Rachel back up, though, as she reaches a firm hand to Santana's neck to pull her closer, her own movement still restrained by her seatbelt. She runs her tongue along the Latina's lower lip, and the girl gasps in surprise, allowing Rachel to deepen the embrace. The dance of their tongues is a little more frantic this time around, both seeming to know what they're building up to.

It's only when oxygen becomes an issue that Santana pulls away, dropping back into her seat and looking straight ahead with wide eyes. "Wow," she sighs out as her breathing works its way back to normal.

"Yeah," Rachel responds simply, her own breath quite uneven at the moment.

"Fucking hell, let's get inside," Santana rushes out before abruptly exiting the car, grabbing the bags from the back seat before practically sprinting to the front door.

Rachel watches in amusement as she slowly climbs out of the car and heads towards the house as well.

Santana puts the key into the lock, simple enough, but the bitch of a lock sticks and the Latina groans, her impatience building by the second. She struggles for close to a minute before finally tugging the key back out in defeat with a groan.

"We gotta go through the back," she says simply before grabbing one of the diva's hands and practically dragging her along to the side of the house, where the pathway is still covered in snow.

_Of fucking course_.

"Fuck," she groans out in frustration. While _she_ may have changed into boots to drive, Rachel's still wearing heels, and there's no way she's gonna make the girl walk through the good half foot of snow, and possibly ice, in fucking four inch heels.

"Not from the looks of it," Rachel jibes with an eyebrow raised.

Santana looks back at the diva with her own raised eyebrow. "I'm a determined motherfucker, don't ever forget that," she chides playfully, and it's only a moment before an idea hits her.

She doesn't give the diva any warning, she just ensures that the bags are secured over her shoulder before relinquishing her hold on the diva's hand and sliding her hand around the girl's back. She dips her other arm to grab the backs of Rachel's knees, the diva's arm immediately wrapping around her neck as she loses balance, and lifts the girl up to carry her.

Rachel lightly squeaks in surprise as her body leaves the ground, but wraps her other hand around the Latina's front to ensure her safety. "This is all very romance novel of you," she teases softly as the ex-cheerio starts to walk them along the snowy path.

Santana rolls her eyes. "You're lucky you only weigh like two pounds. Anyone else and I probably just would've made you suck it up and walk."

It's strange, but Rachel still blushes at the words―having confirmation that she's the only one the Latina would do this for. In addition, in her own roundabout way Santana just told the diva that she was special. Again.

When they reach the back porch, Santana gently lowers the diva back to her feet and Rachel stands upright with a bit of a pout.

"What?" the Latina asks in complete confusion.

The diva shakes her head in mock disapproval, crossing her arms in front of her body. "Couldn't even carry me over the threshold."

Santana scoffs a laugh as she opens the door and kicks her boots off, chucking the bags off to the side before pulling the diva into the kitchen by her crossed arms. She closes the door behind them and pushes Rachel back against it, and as they stand there―Santana flat-footed and Rachel in her heels―they're actually at eye level for the first time.

She stares at the diva for a breathless moment, letting her hands reach out to start undoing the buttons of the girl's pea coat. Once it's undone, Rachel just shrugs it off, letting it fall to the ground. Santana stares at the diva's cleavage in the dress once more, and her heart rate immediately picks up, her hands aching to touch something. She quickly disposes of her own jacket, tossing it in the general direction of the kitchen table, and suddenly they're just standing there again, motionless, staring at each other, both seemingly at a loss for how to proceed.

It's Rachel who reaches out to run her hands along Santana's hips, squeezing them, and it's at this point that the Latina springs back into action. She reaches a hand out to the diva's neck, grabbing her and pulling her in for another kiss, one that immediately heats. Their tongues dance to an electric rhythm and Santana moves her hands along the diva's abs, sliding down to her hips, around to grab her ass.

Rachel squeaks again and slightly pulls back, causing the Latina to raise a questioning eyebrow. The diva's breath is staggered and her eyes are dark. "Upstairs," she breathes out, and that's all the encouragement Santana needs.

She takes one of the diva's hands into her own and starts to walk at a blistering pace towards the stairwell. "Ditch the heels," she pretty much orders once they reach the front hall, and Rachel just kicks them haphazardly towards the front door before dropping down to her normal height.

Santana smiles and leans down to peck the girl's lips softly before starting up the stairs, pulling the diva, who doesn't seem to need much encouragement at the moment, along with her.

They make it as far as the doorway to the master bedroom, Santana's room of late, before their lips meet again, neither sure who initiated it. Their tongues dance in a playful fight for dominance as they advance into the room, and Santana's hands start to grow a little more adventurous. She palms Rachel's ass, loving the roundness and firmness and the way the skin slightly trembles under her touch, before sliding along smooth hips and up tight abs to gently squeeze the diva's breasts through her dress. Rachel moans and Santana smirks against her mouth, delivering a playful bite to her bottom lip before abandoning her breasts, rather running her hands around to the zipper of the diva's dress. She slowly inches the metal down, the clicking of the zipper teeth being the only audible sound in the room outside of the soft moans and light pants emanating from both girls.

Once the zipper is undone, Santana shifts her mouth to kiss at the diva's neck as she slides her hands back around to the diva's front and up to her shoulders, pushing the straps until the dress falls right off of the diva's body, leaving the girl standing there in nothing but black lace panties. Santana can't help it and takes a half step back to look over the diva, the first time she's actually _seen_ Rachel.

"Fuck, Rach," she breathes out, her eyes impossibly wide, her mouth exceptionally dry, and a familiar throbbing starting between her legs at just the sight.

A surprisingly immodest and bold Rachel just smirks and raises an eyebrow. "You know you want to," she teases, stepping forward to erase the space that the Latina had left between their bodies and swipe a quick lick over the girl's lips.

Santana's brow rises in shock. "Fuck yes," she breathes out, but she's quickly silenced by the diva's lips on her own once more, and her eyes drift shut as she melts back into the feel of the girl. It's only when she grabs the diva's hips and pulls their bodies flush against one another that she becomes cognizant of the fact she's still wearing her suddenly incredibly restricting dress, and that's just not gonna fucking fly. She pulls her hands away and reaches to start unhooking the corset-like clasps at the back of her dress, not bothering to undo them all before starting to stubbornly tug down at the sides of the annoying piece of fabric.

Rachel notices the struggle and pulls her mouth away, though her head is still resting against the Latina's as she reaches out to help. She undoes the clasps with ease, and when she lets go, the dress just falls completely off of the Latina's body, leaving the girl in a manner of dress matching her own. "Holy fuck," she groans out, and Santana chuckles.

"God has nothing to do with this," she smirks before pulling the diva into her again, a heavy gasp and the threat of an incredibly premature orgasm entirely eminent as their bare breasts meet for the first time. "Christ," she struggles out, clenching her muscles and biting her bottom lip, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

Now Rachel chuckles, "I don't think _he's_ involved either..."

Santana just smirks lightly before leaning forward to taste the diva's lips again, grabbing her by her bare hips and starting to advance her back towards the bed. When the backs of Rachel's legs meet the bed frame, she pulls away and sits back onto the soft fabric, leaning back onto her hands. Santana licks her lips and swallows the lump in her throat at she stares at the diva on near-full display in front of her. She drops to her knees on the hardwood and runs her hands along the diva's inner thighs, leaning her mouth forward to kiss the girl's abs softly―amazed by how powerfully the muscles contract under the contact. "You know, as great as that dress looked on you, I think I like it better on my bedroom floor," she smirks against the soft skin before reaching her tongue out to explore, drawing a slight chuckle followed by a light gasp.

She circles her tongue around the diva's bellybutton for a few long moments, drawing soft moans, before letting it trail upwards. Her hands abandon the diva's thighs and start to drift upwards as well. She lets her hands lightly scratch down the girl's sides before quickly sliding them up to palm the diva's breasts, her breath hitching as she feels the nipples beneath them immediately harden. She places a soft kiss between the mounds before shifting one of her hands to the diva's back and replacing it with her mouth. She lightly kisses the swell of the breast, letting her tongue trail lazily along its side, along its bottom, before shifting up to take the nipple between her lips. Rachel gasps heavily, and Santana smiles, flicking her tongue across the erect nub, her other hand still palming the diva's other breast.

She switches sides, lavishing the other breast with equal oral attention before using the hand hooked around the girl's back to shift her further up the bed. Rachel obeys and starts to slide up towards the headboard, Santana following along and climbing onto the bed on top of her. As soon as the Latina is close enough, Rachel reaches out her own hands to feel the ex-cheerio's breasts once more, flicking her thumbs across the nipples. Santana lightly moans in approval, and, seeing the smile she earns in return, she smiles as well as she leans down to give some attention to the diva's neck. She can feel the moans reverberate through the diva's neck, and the insane rhythm of her pulse in addition to the unsteady pattern of her breaths, and she's pretty sure that the girl's about ready.

Santana positions herself so that she's hovering over one of the diva's thighs before she grows bolder, reaching down to cup Rachel roughly through her underwear, and, _Oh my god_. The heat. The sheer amount of damp heat radiating from the small girl makes Santana feel lightheaded and draws an embarrassingly guttural moan. She mentally berates herself, fully wanting to clap a hand over her own mouth, but as Rachel lifts a thigh that contacts her centre―accidentally or not, it so does not even fucking matter right now―her mind goes completely blank. The diva drops her thigh back onto the bed and Santana thrusts herself down against it, hard, aching to restore the contact she wants, the contact she _needs_.

She lifts back up and slams her lips against the diva's as she rubs her palm expertly against the lace of the girl's panties. Rachel starts to pant into the Latina's mouth, struggling for air, and when she pulls her head away, Santana finds she needs to do _something_ with her mouth. She shifts down to bite, lick and suck desperately at the smooth skin of the diva's neck once more, almost sure she's going to leave a mark―a large part of her hoping she actually _will_. She's still grinding down on Rachel's thigh, which must be soaking wet at this point―even through the cloth barrier―with the ease with which she is sliding right now. The angle she's working at is rubbing right against her clit, and with how long everything has been building up, she's sure she's not far off.

She slows her pace, though, not wanting to come without Rachel―not their first time. She lets her hand drift away from the diva's panties, rather moving it to massage the thigh that she's not riding, letting her nails rake up and down the smooth skin, leaving vaguely red marks behind and drawing irresistible moans from the diva's mouth. Santana wants to taste those sounds. She shifts her head back up to reunite their lips, letting her hand slide up the diva's thigh once more, but this time with purpose. She slides right up to the top of the girl's inner thigh before gently starting to shift the fabric of her panties to the side to grant herself access.

One of Rachel's hands starts to slide down Santana's body and she smiles against the diva's mouth. _Fucking yes, this is __**happening**__._ Santana is about to finally, _finally_ dip into the diva's folds when Rachel grabs her wrist, rather raising the hand up to her mouth to place a kiss on it.

Santana pulls her hand away and places both hands down on the bed, on either sides of Rachel's shoulders, lifting herself slightly up. She looks down at the girl with heavy lidded eyes, her breathing entirely uneven, lifting an impossibly heavy eyebrow, never stilling the motion of her slowly rocking body.

Rachel turns her head and squeezes her eyes shut, her breath ragged, a look of sheer embarrassment across her face. "Can we... can we just stay above the clothes for now?" she asks softly, nearing tears judging by her tone of voice.

Santana's eyes widen for a moment and she chances a glance down at the one remaining piece of the diva's clothing before looking back up, a large part of her wanting to slap the girl right about now. Instead, she reaches out a soft hand and turns the diva's face to look at her. "I can't stop now," she breathes out huskily, staring deep into Rachel's eyes before glancing down at her own continually moving centre in indication. "I'm too..." she slightly moans and her eyes drift shut as she strokes herself just right against the diva's thigh once more. "I'm too close." She bites her lip and lets it slide through her teeth as she looks back down at the diva with a bit of a pleading expression.

Rachel nods, seemingly more in thought than understanding, and her face twists in such a way that Santana can tell she's conflicted. When the diva looks up again, she's biting her lip lightly in trepidation. "I could help you, if you want..." she offers softly, unsurely, hesitantly reaching her hands out to run them across the Latina's abs once more.

Santana's eyes slightly widen, part of her convinced she might come at just the offer, and she's sure her body has ceased all functioning as she watches one of Rachel's hands start to slide down towards the waistband of her panties. All thoughts of coming together have flown completely out of the bedroom window at this point. She stops her motion along the diva's thigh and lifts herself slightly up, almost sitting back on her heels, and when the diva pauses her fingers at the border to look up again, Santana just nods encouragingly.

Rachel takes a deep breath before timidly dipping her hand beneath the threshold. She starts feeling around clumsily, not quite knowing what to do, and it really is, in a word, awkward. Santana smiles slightly at the girl's ardour, but she doesn't exactly have the time or patience (or self-control, for that matter) to draw her a map right now, so she runs a hand down the diva's arm to her wrist.

"Rach," she breathes out softly, and the girl looks up in uncertainty. She smiles reassuringly before dipping her own hand beneath her panties as well, placing it on top of the diva's. She places her fingers on top of the girl's fingers and gently guides Rachel through her folds before starting to circle two of the diva's fingers around her entry point.

Rachel's eyes are wide at the feel―the wetness, the silkiness, and, of course, the heat―and as she registers where the Latina is guiding her fingers, her breath hitches slightly. Santana smiles down at the girl, drawing one final circle around her hole before gently pushing two of the diva's fingers into herself.

They both gasp at the feel and Santana can feel a precursory jolt run through her body and a firm tightness in her stomach that is quickly threatening to unravel.

"Oh my god," Rachel breathes out, almost breathlessly, as Santana starts pushing her hand in and pulling it out in a steady rhythm, relatively sure that this is the most erotic experience of her life. She's seen lesbian porn on the internet before―after all, she's of the age where curiosity long ago set in and she's at least semi computer literate―but she never imagined the actual _feel_ of doing all these things, or how _good_ she would feel doing these things to someone else.

Santana grinds out a bit of a groan, quickly approaching her final destination, and she speeds the pace of the diva's hand inside of herself. Rachel's other hand is still resting on her abs, motionless now, and she places her free hand on top of it before starting to guide it down as well. She effortlessly glides their hands down beneath her panties and starts to circle two of Rachel's fingers around her incredibly engorged clit.

As she brushes the diva's finger across the swollen bundle of nerves, she releases a guttural moan―and this time she doesn't care about taking it back. Rachel is watching with wide eyes, slightly agape, amazed at the reactions her hands―her own small, presumably manly hands―are eliciting from the Latina.

"Curl your fingers up," Santana struggles out, not letting up her pace with the diva's hand.

Rachel arches a curious eyebrow, short of breath herself from just watching the movement of her hands. "What?"

Santana lightly groans before tapping the back of the specific hand in indication. "These fingers... curl them up until you feel some―_ungh_... something... find the rough spot... then drag them along that..." she forces out through unsteady breaths.

The diva nods, her face knitting into a look of concentration as she tries to follow the Latina's instructions. She feels around for a little while, the speed of Santana's thrusts not really helping her search, but when the Latina gasps, she looks up in amazement, knowing she's found the spot.

"Like that?" she asks with a bit of a smile, letting herself grow a little smug.

Santana groans, "Yeah."

Rachel's smile spreads and she stops the fingers circling the Latina's clit, rather pulling her hand away, earning a look of complete confusion from the oh-so-close girl. She pulls Santana's hand, which is pumping her own hand, away by the wrist. "Let _me_ do it," she breathes out softly, and Santana is just so fucking surprised by it all that all she can do is nod as she removes both of her hands from her pants and puts them back down on the bed.

Having the pace already set for her by the Latina, Rachel slides in and out of the girl with ease, grazing her fingers along the ex-cheerio's inner wall in just the right spot. She lets her other hand drift back down and lets two fingers circle around the Latina's clit, pulling at the hood rather than touching the overly sensitive nub, sensing that it will be the final launch button. She suddenly stills both of her hands, looking up with a devilish grin.

Santana groans in impatience. "Rach..." she draws out with need, hating that she's begging in this situation, but really seeing no other option. After all the teasing and the build up and the waiting, she's not even sure she could finish the job herself right now.

Rachel just smiles before giving the Latina what she wants. She pushes her fingers in as far as they can go, twisting up and pulling along the girl's wall, and she presses her other two fingers firm against the Latina's clit.

Santana releases an incomprehensible string of words, of which probably about half are in Spanish, before she goes completely silent. Rachel gasps as the Latina's inner muscles absolutely clench around her fingers, and she watches in complete amazement as Santana's body goes rigid for a moment before it starts to shake like―Rachel would say―she's having a seizure. The diva keeps her fingers pressed against the girl's clit and her other hand sliding in and out of the Latina up until the girl collapses onto her shoulder in a sweaty heap.

Rachel slightly laughs in disbelief―disbelief that she was able to do that to another person, and disbelief that she was able to do that to _Santana Lopez_ of all possible people. She's wearing a highly satisfied smile as she removes her hands from the Latina's underwear and brings them up to look at them, as if they would have somehow changed.

Santana is heaving for air against the diva's shoulder, her body dead weight against the smaller girl and her mind swimming in a hazy fog. Her mind kicks back into gear after not much of a refractory period, though, and she quickly realizes that, in all the excitement, Rachel is still lying there unsatisfied. The girl may not want contact beyond her fabric chastity belt, but Santana knows full well that there are plenty of ways she can get the girl off without getting her completely naked.

Santana bites onto Rachel's shoulder lightly before placing her hands flat against the bedspread and shifting herself so that her thigh is in the right position between the diva's legs. She pushes her leg down hard as she starts to lick and bite at the diva's neck again, and Rachel's breathing almost immediately starts to border on irregular. Santana smiles, but it doesn't last long.

Rachel reaches her hands between their bodies and pushes the Latina away by her shoulders. Santana rises up onto her hands again, this time looking down at the diva in complete and utter confusion.

"I think that's enough for tonight," the diva says pleadingly with a heavy blush. Santana slightly rolls her eyes before her body mimics the action, rolling off of the diva and collapsing back onto the bed with a silent groan.

She breathes out a deep sigh as she stares up at the ceiling. As physically satisfied as she is at the moment, and as amazingly thrilled as she is that the feeling is because of Rachel, she finds herself feeling entirely confused as to why the diva won't let her return the favour.

After a few moments, she rolls to her side and props her head onto her hand, letting her legs twine with the smaller girl's, looking down at the diva. "Rach," she starts, running a finger lazily along the diva's clavicles, wondering if she should ask the question she's truly been wondering about for the past little while, trying to consider all the potential outcomes. Rachel looks up innocently, and the Latina shifts her hand up to tuck some stray, and heavily mussed, hair behind the girl's ears. Santana takes a deep breath and stills her hand. "Are you a virgin?"

The diva's face goes positively white and she turns her head away, and Santana's eyes widen in realization.

"Oh. Ok then..." she breathes out softly before dropping down onto her back once more, staring up at the ceiling, her eyes still wide. Suspecting something never really prepares you for when it's actually confirmed.

A few entirely awkward moments of silence pass before a thought suddenly pops into Santana's head. She tries, quite unsuccessfully, to stifle her laughter, and Rachel goes red with anger―or, well, the Rachel Berry version of anger―and she starts to shift towards the edge of the bed.

"Well, I'm glad you find it so entertaining," she snarls as she moves to stand.

Santana immediately sits up and reaches out a hand to catch the standing diva by the hand before she can completely retreat. "No no no, I'm not laughing at _that_..." she breathes out quickly, and the diva turns around with a curious eyebrow raised. "It's just..." she can't stifle the additional chuckle that springs free. She raises a hand over her mouth and looks at the diva in slight adoration. "Oh my god, you really _are_ a gold star."

The diva rolls her eyes and sits back down on the edge of the bed with her arms crossed, facing the door. Santana slides up to the girl to wrap her up in a hug from behind, letting her chin rest on the diva's bare shoulder.

"I guess I always just assumed that you and Finn..." she trails off with a bit of a questioning tone as she runs a finger absently along the girl's arm.

Rachel shakes her head firmly. "No. We weren't together for long enough... and, more importantly, I didn't love him."

Santana only seems to process the first half of the sentence, though. She breathes out a long, silent breath, staring at the door in thought as she tries to remember how long Rachel and Finn dated for, and her eyes widen when it hits her. Six months. Six months and Rachel still didn't give it up. She shifts her mouth to softly kiss the diva's shoulder, but her eyes are still wide and her mind is racing, her main thought centred on: _We're never having sex_.

Rachel shifts and starts turning to face the Latina, so she slides back, giving the girl room to manoeuvre. They both shuffle around a bit, and when they still, they are both lying down once more, facing each other.

Santana reaches a hand out to brush through the diva's hair and takes a deep breath. "I mean, I guess I'm just a little confused..." she trails off, causing the singer's brow to furrow in confusion. "I mean, with some of the things you say and some of the not even remotely subtle signals you've been sending, I thought..." She decides to be careful with her words. "I thought you _wanted_ to..." she elaborates.

Rachel looks down and worries a lip between her teeth for a moment before looking back up with unease. "I _do _want to. You're the first person who's ever made me _want_ to. I just..." the diva looks down nervously and Santana raises a curious eyebrow. "I don't think I'm ready," she breathes out incredibly softly.

The Latina sighs silently, running a thoughtful hand through her own hair. She really doesn't know what to say, and she really can't decide how she feels about this new influx of information. _Rachel Berry is a virgin. Rachel Berry wants to have sex with me. I'm the only person Rachel Berry has ever wanted to have sex with. Rachel Berry is not ready for sex. _It's all just incredibly confusing and thinking about it is incredibly tiring.

"You can kick me out if you want..." Rachel's soft voice comes again. "You know, for _not_..." she trails off as she looks up in worry, seemingly convinced that the Latina would actually do it.

Santana just stares at the girl with wide eyes, releasing a bit of a disbelieving chuckle, and reaches her hand out to run it along the diva's cheek reassuringly. "Rachel, it's ok," she coos softly. "The only reason I would _ever_ kick you out of bed would be to fuck you on the floor," she adds, surprisingly tenderly, with a wink.

The diva slightly laughs and rolls her eyes before lightly slapping the Latina's bare shoulder. "I'm serious," she says softly, though there's still a bit of a betraying smile across her lips.

Santana sighs, continuing the motion of her hand along the diva's cheek. "I'm serious when I say that it's ok. If you're not ready, ok. We'll just make like fabric softener and snuggle," she slightly shrugs.

Rachel chuckles and slides her body close, and Santana reflexively rolls onto her back so that the girl can use her shoulder as a headrest. Rachel settles in, twining her legs with the Latina's and letting a hand rest on her stomach.

They stay like that for a few long minutes before Santana reaches a hand down to take the diva's small hand into her own, raising it up to observe it. "You know, I don't know where 'Man-Hands' came from, but your hands aren't even remotely manly," she observes simply.

Rachel smiles, "Well, I do follow a strict moisturizing regimen..."

The Latina rolls her eyes with a smile, but continues to run her fingers along the diva's. "They're so small," she breathes out softly. "Dainty, even."

Rachel buries her head into the Latina's shoulder with a shy smile, and Santana lightly chuckles as she intertwines their fingers. "We fit," she whispers, and she can feel the diva nod against her shoulder before she releases an absolutely monstrous yawn.

Santana chuckles again. "Tired?"

The diva just nods again. "It's been a long, eventful day, and a girl like me requires her beauty sleep," she yawns out.

Santana smiles and they both start to shift, climbing under the covers and settling into their familiar spooning position, Santana taking big spoon duties once again. She runs a hand through the diva's hair, shifting it to the side so that she can place a soft kiss on the nape of the girl's neck. "You're already beautiful enough, take any _more_ and it'll just be unfair," she breathes out, unsure if Rachel even heard her or not, but smiling at what's probably the truest thing she's ever said.

* * *

**Next week's chapter will be up earlier in the week, and this is your warning: it will be, in a word, fluffy as fuck.**

**Now that this beast is done, I'm off to get drunk. Happy Saturday, everyone! :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: IT'S FRIDAY. FRIDAY. GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRIDAY. Friday's still 'earlier in the week' than Saturday, right? :3 Sorry for the wait. Oh, and:**

**THIS. IS. FLUFFYDOME. /end caps**

* * *

Santana wakes to a chainsaw-like buzzing sound. She's on her back and drops her head to the side, lifting her eyelids slightly to investigate the source of the sound. She smiles and rolls her eyes as she catches sight of Rachel's sleeping form, the diva on her back as well―effectively trapping Santana's right arm under her body―snoring away without a care in the world.

_I'm gonna have to record this one day for evidence..._ she muses, silently chuckling through a yawn before turning onto her side and shuffling closer to the diva. As she looks down, she notices a very obvious dark spot on the girl's neck that makes her smile wide―a massive hickey. _She's mine, and now everyone's gonna know it_. But as she ghosts a finger over the mark she suddenly winces, realizing that 'everyone' includes Kevin and, more terrifyingly, David, and that it's possible that she and the diva are gonna have some 'splainin' to do. She quickly shakes the thought, though, rather focusing on memories of last night, memories of how that mark got there in the first place. She finds herself smiling again as she leans down to kiss the small bruise. _She'll get there_.

The fact is, if Rachel's all virginal in the Mother Teresa sort of way―which, given the girl's obvious lack of prowess during their instances of fooling around and beyond, Santana's pretty convinced she _is_―last night she made absofuckinglutely ginormous strides towards actually getting it in. As much as Santana would never ask―nor does she even want to know, for that matter―she's relatively sure that the diva never went that far with Finn... or even Puck, however brief their little fling may have been. It's this fact that has her grinning like an absolute idiot as she continues staring down at the small girl.

She glances over to the nightstand to see the clock, the time just past 10am, and quickly decides that she could probably use some more sleep. She gently turns the diva onto her side, both to free her numb arm and to quell the girl's snoring, and settles in behind her. The feel of Rachel's bare skin against her own makes her sigh contentedly, and she throws an arm around the diva, placing a soft kiss on the girl's shoulder before letting her eyes drift shut once more. _So soft... so warm... just so fucking perfect_.

It's over an hour later when she wakes again, feeling Rachel begin to stir in her arms. "Hey," she breathes out groggily, sliding her eyes slowly open as she places a gentle kiss on the diva's shoulder blade.

Rachel slowly turns around in her arms so that they are face to face, their bare breasts brushing together once more―which would totally kick Santana into gear if she weren't so goddamn tired.

"Hi," the diva whispers, her eyes droopy and a shy smile across her features.

Santana raises a hand to the diva's cheek and runs it down to her chin before leaning forward to unite their lips. They exchange slow, chaste kisses for a few moments before she pulls back with a smile. "Good morning."

"It is," the diva smiles in return before sliding one of her own arms around the Latina and pulling her into a tight hug, burying her head in the ex-cheerio's shoulder. Santana runs her hand absently through the diva's long hair, and they stay like that for a few minutes before she speaks again. "Can we just stay in bed all day?"

Santana chuckles softly against the top of the diva's head. "If I get a vote, absolutely yes forever."

Rachel smiles wide and kisses the bare skin in front of her before letting her eyes drift shut again. "Mmm, good."

Santana's eyes drift shut as well and she just tightens her grip around the diva's slight body. They stay in their embrace for quite some time before her stomach grows pronouncedly, effectively (and annoyingly) cutting through the comfortable silence.

"You're hungry," Rachel murmurs out against her shoulder.

Santana lightly smirks and speaks a bit huskily. "Pretty much always."

The diva arches an eyebrow despite the fact the Latina can't see it. "I don't even know whether that's supposed to be a dirty comment or not."

"Probability says yes," Santana grins, and Rachel chuckles against her shoulder before pulling her head back.

"Should we have some sort of breakfast?" the girl asks plainly.

Santana sighs. "That kind of goes against our plans of staying in bed..."

Rachel furrows her brow in thought. "Call Quinn and ask her to pick us up something on her way back here."

Santana smirks heavily, thinking of how hilarious Quinn's reaction would be if she were to walk into the room right now. "Yeah, I'm not so sure she'd be down with this," she pulls a hand back to gesture between their bodies.

The diva's brow furrows for a moment. "So... is she actually homophobic or is she just entirely not fond of _me_?"

Santana shrugs a shoulder, wrapping her arm back around the girl. "Q is just Q. She doesn't make much sense."

Rachel chuckles lightly. "Ok then," she says simply, a soft smile crossing her features once more.

Santana's stomach lightly growls again (thankfully not loud enough for Rachel to hear) and though she really wants food at the moment, she _really_ doesn't want to get out of bed right now. She furrows her brow as she tries to think through all their possible options, looking up hesitantly when an idea hits her. "I could get Puck to bring us food...? He'd be more than down with that."

Rachel arches a critical eyebrow. "That is probably the single worst idea I have ever heard. Noah already has delusions that he's going to get in bed with us... actually inviting him into a room in which we are in a bed would be entirely counterproductive."

Santana just laughs lightly before closing the small gap between them, letting her lips brush softly against the diva's. "Maybe you're right."

The diva scoffs playfully. "I'm always right."

Santana rolls her eyes with a bit of a laugh. "Oh, ok then."

When her laughter settles, silence passes over the room and the pair find themselves just staring at each other with soft smiles. Santana reaches a hand up to run it along the side of the diva's face, letting her thumb drift over the girl's full lips, lightly tugging on the lower one before leaning in once again. Their lips brush together softly before the Latina runs her tongue lazily along Rachel's lower lip, requesting entry. The diva sighs contentedly, letting Santana in, and they exchange soft, languid kisses for what seems like far too short a time before the Latina's stomach growls audibly once more.

Rachel pulls away with a disapproving eyebrow raised. "Ok, we really should get you something to eat."

Santana grins lecherously. "Well, there's always _you_," she gruffs out, raising her eyebrows suggestively, trailing a hand down to squeeze the diva's ass in emphasis.

Rachel lightly squeaks, and her eyes involuntarily darken. "I mean actual food," she objects softly, her body starting to pull her in a direction that her mind's not ready to go in once again.

"Well... I think you'd constitute a square meal, and I could totally eat you three times a day," the Latina winks, licking her lips in emphasis.

Rachel just rolls her eyes before arching an eyebrow. "Did you just call me a 'square'?" she slightly smirks.

Santana grins once more. "Well, I _am_ all about getting in your box..." she trails off playfully, keeping her arm locked around the diva's waist but letting her other hand drift down to start tickling the girl's stomach.

Rachel starts giggling uncontrollably and squirming, trying to make a retreat along the bed but finding herself trapped in place by the Latina's strong arm. "Santana!" she wheezes out through laughter, the ex-cheerio's amused laughter nearly matching hers at this point. "I-I have to p-pee!" she protests as steadily as she can under the assault, her un-trapped hand unsuccessfully trying to slap the Latina's away.

Santana relents with a sigh and a wide smile, leaning in to capture the diva's lips once more before completely relinquishing her hold, rather sliding her hand to rest on the girl's hip. "I'd actually rather you not do that here. I'm not really into that," she shakes her head with a bit of a smirk.

Rachel rolls her eyes but makes no movement towards leaving, and Santana arches a curious eyebrow.

The diva just looks pointedly at her. "So, are you going to give me a shirt to wear or did you just want me to walk around half-naked?" The Latina grins with suddenly wide eyes, and Rachel immediately shakes her head firmly. "Forget I said that. May I please have a shirt to wear?"

Santana chuckles lightly before sliding out from under the covers and rising to her feet. "I _suppose_ that'd be alright..." she sighs out in half playful, half genuine disappointment as she heads to the dresser to grab t-shirts for both the diva and herself. She turns and tosses the girl a shirt, making no attempt to cover herself up as she does so, and Rachel immediately looks down with a deep blush at the Latina's state of undress. Santana smiles wide at the girl's sudden bashfulness.

Rachel just pulls on the shirt, using the comforter to shield her lady bits as she does, before climbing out of the bed and heading off to the bathroom. Santana pulls on her own shirt and looks around the room, quickly surveying the aftermath of the previous night. She stalks across the room to retrieve their hastily discarded dresses from the floor, trying to smooth out the slightly wrinkled expanses of fabric as she walks back towards her desk. She's just draping them over the back of her computer chair when a shrill sound comes from the hallway.

"Santana!" Rachel's voice shrieks, and the Latina winces with a bit of a laugh, assuming the diva must have noticed the hickey in the mirror.

She steps out into the hallway and glances down the hall to the bathroom, where the diva is leaning over the sink towards the mirror with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, running her fingers along the marking.

"Yeah... sorry about that..." she draws out, shooting the girl a bit of an apologetic look as she starts to slowly approach the small room.

Rachel spits into the sink before looking over wide-eyed. "What the hell am I supposed to tell my dads?" she asks, slightly panicked.

"You burnt yourself on a curling iron?" the Latina offers softly with a shrug.

"On my throat?.!" the diva questions incredulously.

Santana just shrugs again with a soft smile as she reaches the doorway. "Maybe a hair straightener?" she suggests lamely.

Rachel rolls her eyes and resumes brushing her teeth, and Santana lightly chuckles as she takes a few steps into the room, leaning back against the counter as she takes a proper look at the bruise. "It's not that bad, you know. I could've done a lot worse," she shoots her eyes up to meet the diva's with a bit of a smirk. "Or a lot _better_, depending on how you look at it," she adds with a raise of her eyebrows. The diva groans and Santana smiles softly. "It'll be gone in a couple days, anyway," she assures her as she runs her fingers gently along the outline of the mark. Rachel just echoes the groan as she leans down to rinse her mouth out, and Santana chuckles lightly once more. "I'm sorry," she reiterates softly, watching the diva next to her as she stands back upright. "I guess I just got carried away."

Rachel looks over with a bit of a smile before turning her gaze towards the mirror again, raising her fingers up to examine the discoloured skin once more. "This is going to be impossible to cover up," she muses absently with a shake of her head.

Santana arches an eyebrow. "You know, there's this new thing they call 'make-up'..." she teases lightly. The diva rolls her eyes, and Santana just turns to face the girl fully, leaning her hip against the counter, reaching a hand up to brush some of the singer's hair behind her ear. "If I can make my eye look less destroyed, chances are you can cover up a little hickey."

Rachel turns towards her looking positively unimpressed and pointing out a chastising finger. "A) There is _nothing_ 'little' about this hickey; and, B) _never again_," she says firmly.

Santana just smiles and wraps her arms around the diva's waist. "I make no promises," she says playfully, leaning in to meet the small girl's full lips.

Rachel leans back and reaches her hands up to the Latina's shoulders, stopping her short of her goal. "I'm serious!" she protests, perhaps a little less staunchly than she had hoped.

Santana just rolls her eyes, the smile still across her lips. "Then I'll try my best."

The diva sighs and nods in reluctant acceptance, and Santana smiles wider before tugging the diva in by her t-shirt for a kiss. She runs her tongue along the diva's lower lip, looking to deepen the embrace, but Rachel immediately pulls away with a furrowed brow.

"You need to brush your teeth."

Santana arches an eyebrow. "Thought you were _ok_ with morning breath? After all, you were about ten minutes ago..." she leans in again, only to be met by the diva's hands on her shoulders, effectively stopping her once more.

Rachel shakes her head softly with a smile. "While I may be 'ok' with it, that doesn't mean I _prefer_ it. And your toothbrush is literally sitting directly beside us, so..." she trails off, gesturing her head towards the toothbrush holder.

Santana just arches an eyebrow before leaning in again with her tongue sticking out, tugging on the t-shirt to bring the diva closer, and Rachel arches her back impossibly far back―something that makes the Latina quirk and eyebrow and mentally store the knowledge away for future reference―to escape, swatting her hands out in objection.

"Santana!" she squeals through laughter. "Stop it!"

The struggle continues for a few long moments, both girls laughing, before Santana gains the upper hand and leans in close. Rachel turns her head, and the Latina settles for a sloppy lick along the diva's jaw line before she pulls away with a satisfied smile. Rachel huffs and raises a hand to wipe at her face before looking at the Latina pointedly.

"I am never kissing you again."

Santana scoffs, running an adventurous finger along the waistband of the girl's panties. "Oh, please. Like you could even resist." She dips her finger slightly beneath the band, tugging lightly on the lace.

Rachel slightly shivers at the intimate contact, suddenly finding herself feeling quite flush again. "Maybe not, but that doesn't negate the point of the matter. You get no tongue until you brush yours clean," she says firmly.

Santana raises a playful eyebrow but just chuckles and shakes her head before leaning in to capture another chaste kiss. "Sure thing, princess," she sighs out before turning towards the sink and grabbing her damn toothbrush.

* * *

It's not long before the pair head downstairs to find some sort of breakfast, the diva being quite hungry herself. Unfortunately, the Lopez house isn't exactly known for being vegan-friendly, so Rachel ends up sitting at the table with a plate of slightly rotten fruit and a single slice of toast with peanut butter in front of her.

"You should really go grocery shopping..." she observes, as if it's not the most obvious statement in the world, while rolling a nearly brown (formerly green) grape around her plate with a knife.

Santana just arches an eyebrow as she takes another bite of her PB&J. She washes it down with a mouthful of orange juice before she speaks. "True, but I have to wait for Q. I have no fucking clue what she eats besides pizza and fruit."

Now Rachel arches an eyebrow. "You really are two of a kind, aren't you?"

The Latina shrugs. "I don't know, I think I like _certain_ Berries more than she does," she smiles, earning a blush from the girl across her as she takes another bite.

A sound suddenly intrudes on their makeshift meal―the missed call tone from Rachel's phone, which is still in her jacket, which is still in a heap on the ground near the back door. The diva rolls her eyes and reluctantly rises from her seat, heading over to the door to grab the coat. As she does so, Santana figures it's probably a good idea to check her phone as well, which is in her own jacket, which is lying on the ground not too far away from Rachel's.

Rachel raises a stressed hand to her forehead as she looks down at her phone, her jacket draped over her arm. "Oh my god, I have eleven missed calls," she says softly, more to herself than to anyone else. "And they're all from my dads... _shoot_," she lets out under her breath. "I have to go call them," she announces as she looks up at the Latina.

Santana returns the stare with an apologetic smile and an understanding nod, and Rachel just takes off into the hallway to make her call.

Once the diva is gone, Santana reaches into the pocket of her own coat to grab her phone, the handset indicating seven new texts and one new voicemail. She arches a curious eyebrow before she clicks over to see who actually left a voice message. Her brow furrows as she looks at the unfamiliar number, but suddenly the area code registers and her eyes widen. _It's him_. She taps her thumb against the side of the handset, worrying a lip between her teeth as she drifts into thought.

_Maybe it _was_ him last night. Maybe he saw me. I mean, why else would he call? Especially now?_

She quickly shakes her head, deciding to deal with it later, before she clicks over to the texts, all from the same blonde and growing in impatience.

'How was last night?'  
'Hello?'  
'Where are you?'  
'You better not be having sex in My... well, Your bed :P'  
'SANTANA'  
'Fucking bitch, answer me.'  
'I HATE YOU RIGHT NOW'

Santana chuckles at the messages before tapping out her own response. 'Calm your tits, Q.'

It's seconds later when a response comes in. 'Wtf! :P where have you been? B has shit to do today.' And it's quickly followed by another. 'Is the coast clear?'

She smirks. 'Cloudy with a chance of flurries, actually.'

'I fucking hate you.'

'You love me.'

'B's gonna drop me off soon.'

'Ok cool. Rach is still here... I don't really know what her plans are for today...'

'Whatever. No sex while I'm there.'

Santana arches an eyebrow. 'Um. I don't know if you realize this, but this is MY house. I make the fucking rules.'

'Do you have to be such a gigantic bitch?'

'Always, fatty ;P'

Santana can sense Quinn's (likely audible) groan even via text message. 'I AM COMING HOME NOW, HAVE CLOTHES ON.'

She smiles again. 'Ya ya tubs, see you soon.'

She keeps her phone in hand as she heads back towards the kitchen table with her jacket in her other hand. She tosses the coat onto an empty chair before sliding back into her seat and putting the phone down on the table. She takes to eating her sandwich again, and it's not long before the diva re-enters the room in a bit of a huff.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me that it's already past noon?" she demands.

Santana smiles in amusement. "There are clocks all over this house," she spins her finger around in indication. "I'm not your personal timekeeper."

Rachel groans and rolls her eyes, gripping her phone tight in her palm, more frustrated with herself than anyone else for being so forgetful. "I'm supposed to have lunch with my fathers at the hospital and I am almost definitely going to be late now... daddy's already _there_..." she laments, her hand rising to her forehead again as she stares blankly ahead.

The Latina chews and swallows another bite, slightly sighing as she watches the small girl have yet another minor freak out. "Ok, put some clothes on and I'll drive you," she offers matter-of-factly with a shrug.

Rachel looks over in slight shock, but she doesn't bother to falsely protest against the proposal before she smiles a bit bashfully. "Thank you," she breathes out softly as she skips across the room, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the ex-cheerio's lips. "That would be wonderful."

* * *

The rest of the day passes by relatively uneventfully. By the time Santana got back home from dropping Rachel off, Quinn was already home. The pair got their shit together and went out to do some grocery shopping before doing what they always do―heading into the living room and hunkering down with some junk food and some quality horror.

"You would totally be _that_ bitch," Santana observes absently, popping another gummy bear into her mouth.

Quinn looks over with a slightly offended eyebrow raised. "_What_ bitch?"

The Latina points at the screen, not tearing her eyes away. "_That_ dumb bitch who goes to see what the sound is and ends up getting absolutely slaughtered."

The blonde huffs a laugh. "And what makes you think that?"

Santana shrugs with a smirk. "You're a nosy bitch, Q."

She basks in Quinn's groaned response for a full five seconds before she feels the impact of a pretzel against the side of her head. "Hey!" she chides firmly, turning her head towards the blonde and pointing out a threatening finger. "Don't even try it, Fabray, I will fucking _end_ you."

Quinn laughs outright at this, knowing it's just about the emptiest threat in the world. "S, I've known you pretty much forever, and if there's one thing I know for certain, it's that you throw like a fucking toddler."

The Latina's jaw drops in disbelief and she quickly launches a gummy bear in the general direction of the blonde on the other side of the couch. Quinn just laughs even harder and Santana groans at her own inability as the soft candy lands gently in the blonde's lap. _I've really gotta practice this shit_.

"Yup," Quinn smiles smugly as she retrieves the candy and pops it into her mouth. "Like a fucking child."

Santana's brow drops as she feels anger run through her veins, but instead of trying again and just embarrassing herself further, she settles for leaning over and punching the blonde's shoulder. Hard.

Quinn grimaces at the impact and raises a hand to her shoulder just as the doorbell rings. "Fuck, Santana," she growls out.

"You fucking wish, Fabray," the Latina smirks as she pops up from her seat and heads out into the front hallway.

She practically skips to the door in her surprisingly happy mood―possibly enhanced by the fact she just got to throw a damn solid punch without suffering any consequences―only feeling impossibly happier when she opens the door and sees who's on the other side. "Rach," she smiles with wide eyes, her tone bordering on excited.

"Hey," the diva breathes out with a soft smile.

Santana looks down and notices that the girl is holding a plain brown cardboard box, about a cubic foot in size, between her hands. The top flaps are dog-eared and haphazardly folded over each other, and it just really looks like it's been put through the ringer. She arches a questioning eyebrow.

"And what exactly is _that_?" she asks, pointing towards the box.

"You said you wanted to get into my box," the diva quips, and when Santana's brow just furrows in confusion, she rolls her eyes. "It's your Christmas gift."

The Latina smirks with a shake of her head and takes to leaning against the doorframe. "Wow. You really went all out with the gift wrapping, huh...' she observes playfully.

Rachel scoffs in return, and the box seems to shift in her hands. Santana jumps back with a start, "Holy fucking hell, did that thing just move?"

To Rachel's delight, in her shock Santana jumped back far enough so that she can finally enter the house, kicking the door shut behind her. She simply places the box down on the bench and slips her coat off, hanging it up in the closet before turning back towards the Latina, who is still staring at her expectantly.

"Are you ready?" she asks simply.

Santana chances a wary glance down at the box again before looking up at the diva with a bit of a nod. "I guess so..."

Rachel turns her back so that the Latina can't quite see what she is doing as she unfolds the flaps of the box and reaches in to retrieve the gift. When she turns around, Santana's jaw drops and she raises her hands to her mouth.

"Oh my god!" she releases as an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeal as she looks at what's in Rachel's arms―probably the tiniest, fluffiest kitten she has ever seen in her life. She's half convinced she might melt on the spot from the level of cute on display in front of her, only magnified by the fact that it's _Rachel_ cradling the pure white, long haired kitten like a human baby between her arms.

Rachel tries unsuccessfully to stifle a bit of laughter at the Latina's reaction―it being _way_ beyond anything she had ever expected―before her face splits into a wildly satisfied smile. "See," she points a finger at the red bow that is tied around the cat's neck in indication. "She's gift wrapped."

Santana keeps one of her hands over her mouth as she hunches down closer to the kitten's current height and reaches a slightly hesitant hand out to scratch the little creature behind its ear, earning an excited mewl that makes her almost echo the sound. A betrayingly schoolgirlish laugh escapes her lips and she's half convinced she might explode. She shoots her eyes up at the diva for a moment with a curious eyebrow raised, finally registering her words, "She?" The diva just nods in confirmation, and Santana turns her attention back to the tiny white addition to the household, her smile spreading even further.

Rachel's smile mirrors Santana's own, the diva feeling incredibly elated with how this is all playing out. "Now you don't have to be so lonely in this big, empty house," she says softly as the Latina continues to absolutely squee over the baby animal.

Santana stands back upright, looking at the diva in a bit of amazement, knowing that pets cost a hell of a fucking lot if you go get them at the store. Rachel seems to sense what the Latina is thinking and shakes her head knowingly.

"Lima Animal Services is doing their annual Christmas Adoption Drive, so this little girl was super inexpensive!" she trails off in a high pitched voice, lifting the kitten to nuzzle their noses together before cradling her once more.

Santana just stares at the diva wide-eyed, the veritable baby talk making her feel a distinct twinge in her stomach. If she's honest, part of her wants to jump Rachel's bones right here and now, but she bites back the urge, if only to spare the kitten from getting crushed as collateral damage.

"Besides, in essence, this is a gift to myself, too," the diva adds, raising a shoulder in nonchalance.

The Latina's brow rises.

Rachel just smiles. "Well _obviously_ I'll be her other mother. And I'll get to love her, and shower her with gifts, and cuddle her every time I come over..." she trails off, seemingly speaking more to the cat than the ex-cheerio as she scratches the small feline behind the ear.

Santana's brow drops and she raises a finger. "So, let me get this straight. Not only have you decided to strap me with custody of an unexpected child, but she's gonna steal my cuddles, too?" she questions in mock-disapproval, crossing her arms in front of her body. "Seems like a pretty shit deal for me..." she trails off, tilting her head thoughtfully with a bit of a grin.

Rachel just rolls her eyes.

"I'll be expecting a cheque at the beginning of every month for child support, of course," she teases, earning another roll of the eyes and a bit of a groan this time before diva's face settles back into a soft smile. Santana can't get over how adorable she's finding Rachel right now, how much she's actually _feeling_ in this moment―how fucking _happy_ she feels―and despite the fact it should be overwhelming, it's just... well... _not_.

She quickly shakes her head and turns her attention back to her tiny new housemate. "So what's her name?" she asks curiously without looking up, reaching out to pet the cat once more.

"A51892," the diva says simply, earning a look of confusion in return. "Her tag number," she elaborates. "I figured we'd be the ones to name her... _together_..." she trails off hopefully, though a bit uncertainly.

Santana just smiles and nods, "I can deal with that." She scratches at the little creature for another moment before looking up at the diva. "So... you just gonna hoard our child or can I hold her, too?"

Rachel rolls her eyes lightly but her smile doesn't drop. "Of course," she beams, finally handing over possession of the little beast.

Santana cradles the cat between her arms and pulls her up close. "Oh my god," she breathes out in slight amazement. "Her eyes are blue?" she looks up, seemingly searching for verification.

The diva nods. "Absolutely, though they _did_ say that the colouration might fade with age."

Santana, feeling like she's wearing an even wider perma-smile than she has been the past couple days, just raises the kitten up so that her feet are dangling down towards the ground and they're face to face, the feline's nose mere inches from her own. "You're gonna ruin _all_ of my clothes, aren't you?" she says in her own baby talk voice, something that just makes Rachel smile impossibly wider (and, to be quite honest, turns her on to a surprising degree).

Santana drops the kitten back down to cradle it in her arms before her brow drops to match and she looks over at the diva questioningly. "Is this your way of getting me to wear less black? By sending in a special ops team to search and destroy all my black clothes?" she questions, looking down at the loose white fur already hanging off of her black t-shirt in indication.

Rachel just laughs and rolls her eyes once more, and Santana shifts the cat so that it's cradled in just one of her arms, reaching her free hand out to grab the diva by her button-up. She pulls the girl in close, so that their lips are inches apart. "Thank you," she breathes out softly, not giving the short girl a chance to respond before meeting her lips in a crushing kiss.

Quinn peeks her head out into the hallway, the overheard baby talk having creeped her out in a multitude of ways, and slightly grimaces at the sight. "Ugh," she remarks loud enough for the pair to hear, her brow furrowed, though there's a slight teasing tone to her voice that makes it sound a lot less malicious than it could be. "You two could at least take it upstairs."

Santana just rolls her eyes before turning around, and when Quinn sees the kitten, she absolutely lights up. "Oh my god!" she squeals out in a similarly awkward high-pitched voice, drawing a chuckle from the Latina. She quickly approaches and starts to scratch at the cat's ears. "Can I?" she asks, gesturing towards the kitten, wanting to cuddle the little monster herself.

Santana transfers the kitten into the blonde's waiting arms before smirking. "Oh, Q," she shakes her head slightly, earning the ex-cheerio's gaze once more. "I always knew you wanted my pussy."

Rachel laughs but still slaps the back of her shoulder in reprimand, though Santana couldn't care less right now―the absolutely twisting look of mortification on Quinn's face is just... _**So**__ fucking worth it_.

* * *

The next half hour or so is spent bringing in a bunch of cat accessories from Rachel's car, including but not limited to: a litter box that they set up in the downstairs washroom; a decent sized scratching post which they put near the window in the living room; some assorted kitten-friendly cat toys; as well as a case of wet food, a bag of dry food, and pet dishes, which all get sorted into the kitchen.

The horror-movie marathon is quashed at Rachel's behest, and the threesome rather find themselves settled in the living room embroiled in an ongoing debate over what the newest Lopez's name should be (or the newest Berry-Lopez, if you ask Rachel). Quinn is reclined in an armchair playing with the as-yet-unnamed kitten, and Santana is seated on the end of the couch nearest Quinn with Rachel's head in her lap, the diva stretched out across the length of the couch.

"'Idina'," Rachel suggests.

"No." The Latina answers firmly, running a hand absently through the diva's hair.

"'Cheno'," the short girl presses on.

Santana groans and rolls her eyes, this little back-and-forth having been going on for a while now. "Can we _please_ stray from the cast of 'Wicked'?"

Quinn has the kitten resting on her stomach, fruitlessly chasing after the string of her hoodie as she chimes in. "What about 'Whitey'?" she suggests simply, looking over with an eyebrow raised, her inattention giving the small beast the opening she's been waiting for to snag the white drawstring.

Santana looks over in mock fondness. "Aww, Q..." she raises a hand to her chest, really hamming it up. "That's so cute that you think I would name my cat after you."

The blonde groans. "Asshole," she mutters under her breath, and the Latina just shakes her head.

"I already said I'm not naming her after you," she deadpans.

"What about 'Barbra'?" the girl in her lap suggests, seemingly having been lost in thought this whole time.

Santana looks down with an eyebrow raised. "You want to name the cat _your_ middle name?"

Rachel looks positively offended. "I'll have you know that Barbra Streisand is a true inspiration―not just for Jewish women but for women everywhere! She is a _living legend_ and a testament to overcoming the odds and achieving monumental success despite not being classically beautiful!"

The Latina's expression doesn't change, and the diva groans lightly.

"Ok," she slightly grinds out. "Well if you refuse to use her name―which _I_ think is a _terrible_ error in judgement―" Santana rolls her eyes. "Then what about her initials?"

Santana's brow drops completely as she processes the idea. "'_B.S._'?" she questions incredulously. "You wanna name the cat '_bullshit_'?.?"

Quinn starts to laugh, the kitten bouncing slightly up and down on her abdomen as she does so, and Rachel just huffs in defeat.

"Fine..." the smaller girl reluctantly surrenders, furrowing her brow in thought once more before looking up in earnest. "What about 'Liza'? Liza with a 'z'..." she elaborates.

Santana rolls the name around on her tongue a few times, it honestly being the name she's been least opposed to so far. She sighs. "Fine," she cedes unenthusiastically. "But _I_ get to call her 'Zee'," she stipulates firmly.

Rachel smiles wide and sits up, turning to face the Latina before extending her hand for a handshake. "I can accept those terms."

Santana arches an unimpressed eyebrow at the gesture and instead lightly grabs the tips of the diva's small fingers, tugging the hand up so that she can brush her lips across the girl's knuckles.

"Fucking gross," Quinn mutters as she pets the sleepy kitten, earning an eye roll from the Latina.

"I'm gonna fucking tie you to a chair and make you watch us have sex if you keep that up, Fabray," she threatens, earning a disciplining slap on the shoulder from the diva beside her. "What?" she laughs out as she turns towards the slight girl. "She totally deserves it."

Quinn just rolls her eyes. "Unless you want me to vomit all over your house, I suggest you do that for Puck or Matt or someone else who'll actually _appreciate_ it."

It's at this point that Rachel arches an eyebrow, wanting to get in a word or two thousand of her own on the topic. "You know, Quinn, to appropriate a line from Shakespeare's literary classic _Hamlet_, sometimes 'the lady doth protest too much, methinks'..."

The blonde furrows her brow at the diva before looking to Santana. "Her lips are moving and there's sound coming out... please translate."

The Latina absolutely smirks and speaks in an incredibly smug tone. "Well... maybe the reason you're so _against_ it all is because you secretly _want_ it."

Quinn scoffs a laugh with a disbelieving stare. "Now you're just dreaming."

"I don't know, Q," Santana starts, her grin spreading with each word spoken. "As far as I can see, you seem to be pretty good at stroking the pussy..." she trails off, gesturing her head towards Liza in indication.

Rachel tries to stifle her laughter with her hand but fails miserably, and the blonde rolls her eyes once more.

"You're insane," she groans out, an exasperated hand raised to her forehead.

"I don't know, Q," Santana smiles smugly. "It's two against one here."

Quinn arches an eyebrow and shakes her head firmly in disagreement. "Oh no, no, no. You two are fucking one person lately."

Rachel beams and Santana just smirks again.

"Actually, we're fucking each other," she lightly shrugs. "But, you know, semantics."

A resounding slap meets her shoulder, the first one she's convinced might actually leave a bruise, but, once again, _Totally fucking worth it_ for the look on the blonde's face―which has settled somewhere between a gag and possible actual vomit. _Amazing_.

* * *

It's only about an hour later, the time pressing on 9pm, when Rachel stands from the couch with a sigh. "I should get going," she says simply, leaning down to give Liza another scratch behind the ear before starting to hedge towards the hallway.

"Oh," Santana breathes out softly, a bit of a pout crossing her features, finding herself genuinely disappointed that the diva can't just stay the night... or, you know, forever. "Ok." She nods slightly as she also stands from the couch to see the diva out.

Rachel and Quinn exchange kind waves before Santana and the singer head out to the hallway. Rachel pulls on her jacket before turning back towards the Latina with a bit of a shy smile.

"So did you like your gift?" she asks with a playful smugness, knowing the answer before the Latina even speaks.

Santana senses it, so she decides to be as smug as she can herself, wrapping her arms around the diva's waist and licking her lips as she looks down the slight girl's body. "Well, it's not exactly the pussy that I was _hoping_ for, but, you know," she shrugs with a grin. "I'll take what I can get."

Rachel rolls her eyes and raises a hand to slap the Latina's shoulder, but Santana catches her by the wrist mid-swing, rather raising the hand up and kissing the back of it before putting it down on her neck, the diva reflexively raising her other hand up to the indicated spot as well.

"I love the gift, or, well, _Liza_," Santana draws out somewhat begrudgingly, but with a smile. "It was thoughtful, and wonderful, and adorable... kind of like you."

Rachel looks down with a heavy blush, and Santana just hooks a finger under the diva's chin, lifting her back up to meet her lips with a soft kiss. "Come over tomorrow."

The diva arches an eyebrow.

"Quinn invited Puck over, so we'll make it a thing."

Rachel smiles briefly before her brow slightly furrows. "A _drinking_ thing...?" she draws out, and Santana can hear the bit of distaste in her voice.

She just shakes her head with a bit of a chuckle, guessing that the diva is still a little wary of the drink after her epic hangover. "Nope, no booze. Just hanging out."

Rachel smiles and nods excitedly. "Ok, then, I'm in."

"Good," Santana breathes out before leaning in to kiss the diva once more, letting her hands drift down to the diva's ass and delivering a light squeeze. Rachel squeaks, and she takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, letting her tongue brush softly against the shorter girl's.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she breathes out softly when she finally pulls away, letting her forehead rest against the diva's.

Rachel nods. "You will," she breathes with equal softness, leaning in for one more peck before stepping back and out of the Latina's grasp. She just shoots a soft wave before heading out of the house completely.

* * *

Santana and Quinn resume their horror movie marathon, fitting in another two movies before finally heading off to their respective beds, the time slipping into the early morning hours.

When the Latina enters the bedroom she looks around with a bit of a satisfied smile, that is until she catches sight of her phone sitting on the nightstand charging, the sudden memory of the waiting voicemail washing over her and pushing her face down into a bit of a frown. She just stares for a few thoughtful moments before internally shrugging. _Fuck it. Not today_.

She changes and climbs into bed, settling under the covers, and it's not long before a small white creature jumps up onto the bed with a bit of a squeak and quickly cuddles up next to her. She smiles, though her eyes stay closed. If Rachel can't be here, at least she has Zee to keep her company.

* * *

**Fun fact: I may or may not have meant 'fluffy' in the **_**literal**_** sense. ;)**

**Thanks again for reading guys, you've all been incredibly awesome! :D And Happy May 2-4 to my fellow Canadians! Enjoy the long weekend and go light some fireworks and shit!**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: I am so sorry for the ridiculously unacceptable wait. The good news is I am writing this chapter on the sexiest laptop I have ever laid eyes on... the bad news is that my old laptop completely crashed and burned last week and I lost all my progress on this story (as well as some thesis data, my creys.) So, yeah, I kind of rewrote this chapter on the fly yesterday/today. I hope it didn't lose too much substance and I hope it's not complete poopy shit :3 (Total rough edit, fyi)**

**TL;DR: In terms of timeline, today (this chapter) is Christmas Eve!**

**And, fair warning: there's racist language within, so I apologize in advance :/**

* * *

Despite having a cuddle buddy in Zee, sleep doesn't come easy for Santana. As much as she tries to completely block thoughts of the impending voicemail, it just doesn't plan out. There are too many questions, too many 'what ifs', too many different possibilities of what could be happening and why he could be calling to leave it open ended. It's with a frustrated groan, the time close to 4am, when she rolls towards the nightstand and rips her phone off of the charger, the quick movement startling Zee awake.

She rolls onto her back and holds the handset out above her head, squinting at the overly bright screen. She just clicks over to voicemail, throws it onto speakerphone and hits play before putting the device down on her chest. An aggravated chuckle escapes her lips when the slightly electronically altered voice comes through, verifying her assumption.

'Hi mija,' the voice greets, though it's followed by a long and entirely awkward pause―one that makes Santana wonder if the man's going to say anything else at all. 'Uhh, how are you? I thought I saw you yesterday just outside of town... or someone who looked a lot like how I imagine you've grown up to look...' He clears his throat nervously. 'Um, well, your mother called me a while back and told me I should probably get in touch with you―' Santana raises a curious eyebrow. 'So I figure now's as good a time as any. I know it's been a long time, but... uhh... _Jesus_,' he lets out under his breath with a long sigh. '[I'm horrible at this phone bullshit, you know that. If you wanted to get together some time or something... just... just give me a call back if you want, ok? The house number hasn't changed, and, well, this is my cell phone. You can call either. Uh, yeah. I hope you're taking good care of yourself.] I love you, mija. Oh, and Merry Christmas.'

With that, a click and it's over. And all Santana can do is purse her lips together with an eyebrow raised, the message really having done nothing at all to make things any less confusing. Her dad. Wanting to talk to her. Because her mom called him. _What the fucking hell_. It makes little to no sense. Santana's relatively sure that her mom hasn't talked to her dad in even longer than her, so... _What the fuck_. She groans and tosses the phone carelessly back onto the nightstand before running her hands over her face, the exhaustion of everything feeling overwhelming at the moment.

She breathes out a deep sigh before deciding that the silence in the room is deafening. She retrieves her phone from the nightstand once more and reaches into the drawer to grab a pair of headphones. In theory, the music should drown out her thoughts... _should_ being the key word. She throws the buds in, setting the phone on her sleepy music playlist and snuggling up to Zee once more before closing her eyes and letting Sia's soft, lilting lyrics soothe her overactive brain.

* * *

Her theory of using music to dampen her thoughts seems to work as she does manage to fall asleep, though it's a restless slumber. On the bright side, Quinn doesn't wake her in the morning. By the time she does wake up (the playlist having looped around an insane number of times before settling on an Iron & Wine song as her 'good morning' greeting) the time is well past 11 and she's in her bed alone, Zee having abandoned her post at the Latina's side long ago. She runs her hands over her face, feeling like she hasn't slept a single wink, before reluctantly peeling herself out of bed and heading off to the shower.

When she emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and feeling much more alive, she's surprised to see Quinn back upstairs in her room and rooting through her bag. She takes a spot leaning against the doorframe. "Morning."

The blonde turns around with a soft smile. "Good morning."

"What's up?" the Latina asks curiously with a questioning eyebrow raised, noticing that the girl seems a bit frazzled.

Quinn groans lightly as she holds up her empty bag. "I'm pretty much out of clothes to wear."

The Latina nods and her brow slightly furrows. "Ok, so we'll do laundry," she shrugs. The blonde looks unimpressed at the prospect, though, and Santana rolls her eyes. "Alright... well, alternatively, I could just lend you some shit to wear..?" she offers.

Quinn scoffs lightly. "Yeah, thanks, but black really isn't my colour."

Santana rolls her eyes heavily with a frustrated sigh. "Sometimes I think you're just stubborn for stubborn's sake."

Quinn sighs and drops to take a seat on the edge of the bed, running tired hands over her face. "I'm gonna have to go home and pick up some more stuff," she laments as she drops her chin onto her hands.

The Latina's eyes widen. "No fucking way," she says firm, her arms instinctively crossing in front of her body. "You're not going back into the belly of the beast just to get some fucking _clothes_."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "It's not just clothes, S." She grows considerably softer when she speaks again. "I need my _stuff_... I didn't think I was gonna be here this long."

Santana looks down with a sigh, genuinely feeling bad for the girl, but it doesn't really change the fact that going back is just about the worst idea Santana has ever heard. "You're still not going back there. Not while _he's _there," she says a bit softer with a shake of her head.

The blonde scoffs lightly before arching an eyebrow. "What other option do I even have?"

Santana stares at the girl pointedly with a shrug, as if the answer should be entirely obvious. "I'll go get some shit for you."

Quinn's eyes widen and she shakes her head fervently. "No fucking way," she echoes. "There's no way I would ever even _think_ of asking you to do that."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Spare me, Q. I'm so completely not even afraid of the 'big bad drunk'. I just go in, grab some shit, and get out. Simple."

It really does sound simple, even to Quinn, but she's still wary of the prospect. The fact is, Russell Fabray―when drinking―could give any romanticized, fictionalized 'big bad drunk' a run for his money. Giving the man alcohol is literally like adding fuel to a fire... this fire just happens to hit below the belt, both figuratively and literally. She shakes her head once more but it's with a sigh, and Santana can tell she's going to give in.

"Fine," she cedes softly, and the Latina's mouth tugs into a bit of a smile. The blonde runs her hands over her face once more before looking back up with a cautious stare. "This is a fucking horrible idea, you realize this, right?"

Santana shrugs a shoulder, not wanting the girl to have even the slightest reservation about it. "Whatever. It's no big deal. I know you'd do the same for me," she smiles softly, staring at the girl pointedly with kind eyes.

Quinn stares at her appraisingly for a moment before a matching smile spreads across her features and she nods in return. A bit of a stale silence sets in, eyes shifting around a little uncomfortably, before anyone speaks.

"You know," the blonde looks over again with a bit of a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "I'd get up and hug you or something if you weren't being all 'in a towel' and shit."

Santana grins and arches a playful eyebrow in return. "Oh, I could totally ditch the towel if that's the only problem."

Quinn scoffs through a laugh and rolls her eyes, and it makes Santana smile to see it. "Go put clothes on, stripper," she jibes, waving a dismissive hand.

The Latina looks down her own body, raising a hand to run it across the top of her towel, dipping into her cleavage slightly as she looks back up. "Why? Am I making you nervous?" she asks innocently, her brow furrowed though a bit of a smirk is tugging at her lips.

The blonde rolls her eyes again, with a bit more purpose this time. "You're dreaming, S."

"Because, you know, I could just..." she trails off, tugging at the spot where her towel is tucked in, rather holding it loosely around her body. She looks up with a questioning eyebrow, relishing the way the blonde's eyes are now practically bulging out of her head.

Quinn just shakes her head and stands from the bed, quickly walking over and lightly pushing the brunette out of the room. "I'm totally gonna tell Rachel you offered me a striptease," she says seriously, pointing out a threatening finger.

Santana's eyes widen and she quickly tucks her towel back into place. "You wouldn't..." she trails off, somewhat nervously.

The blonde smirks. "Well, I guess we'll just have to see how things play out," she says with a raise of her eyebrows, the smirk spreading into a full-on smile.

Santana rolls her eyes and starts to head back towards her own room. "Fuck you, fatty," she grumbles over her shoulder.

Quinn laughs lightly. "I'm gonna tell her you offered me sex, too!" she yells after the Latina, earning a groan in response that just makes her laugh harder.

* * *

It's only an hour or so later―after grabbing some breakfast and figuring out what exactly it is that Quinn needs―that Santana heads to the Fabray household, an all too familiar feeling of foreboding washing over her as she pulls into the driveway. She releases a deep sigh as she turns off the ignition. While she may have acted all smug and brave in front of the blonde, this is still pretty much the last place in the entire world she'd like to be right now. As an added bonus, the driveway is full, which only makes her frown further. An exceptionally large part of her had been hoping that no one would be home other than the service staff.

She reluctantly climbs out of the car with the empty duffle bag slung over her shoulder and starts a slow stroll up to the front door of the gigantic house, rubbing her hands together in nervousness. Once she reaches the door, she's at a loss for a moment. _Why the fuck did I tell her I'd do this?_ she briefly panics, letting her hand hover around the doorbell rather than actually pressing it. She closes her eyes and starts to take deeper breaths to calm herself, clenching her outreached hand into a fist a couple times before shaking it to ease some of the pent-up tension―no small part of it still stemming from her own father. _I'm doing this for Quinn,_ she reminds herself with a shake of her head. She straightens her posture and steels her expression as she purposefully pushes her finger forward and presses the bell (though internally she's just praying to anyone who might be up there that it's Judy who answers the door and _not_ Russell).

Luck isn't on her side today, though.

She hears some banging around inside the house before the door finally swings open to reveal a wholly intoxicated Russell Fabray, who is basically using the door to support his weight at the moment. He shoots a discriminating glance over the Latina before huffing a bit of a frustrated laugh and running a heavy hand over his exceptionally red face.

"Don't we already have enough wetbacks working around here," he mutters out rhetorically.

Santana doesn't miss the words―or the sentiment behind them, for that matter―but despite the immediate jolt of 'knock someone the fuck out' it sends through her, she just rolls her eyes. "Actually I'm one of Quinn's friends."

The man stands slightly upright and his face goes an impossibly deeper shade of red. "Judy!" he yells back into the house. "You didn't tell me our daughter was friends with a fucking _cholo_!" he slurs out.

Santana can feel her blood starting to run a little hotter. "_Actually_, you've met me plenty of times before..." she trails off before mumbling, "_fucking peckerwood_."

Russell raises a shaky hand. "Irregardless," he struggles out, his eyes slightly squinting. "The last thing we need is another Mexican riding their fucking burro into this house." He clumsily gestures his arm into the house, and it almost looks like he's inviting her in―but, of the many things Santana is, she's not that fucking stupid.

She groans. She _really_ doesn't want to get physical, but she's in no way opposed to throwing a punch or ten should the situation call for it. Instead she tightens her posture, standing upright with her arms crossed firmly in front of her body, letting the man nonverbally know that she's not going anywhere.

There's a thick silence for a few minutes, both seemingly trying to stare the other into submission, before Judy Fabray appears over the man's shoulder, a slight smile and a flicker of happiness flitting across her eyes as she catches sight of Santana. She pulls Russell slightly back by his shoulder.

"Russell, you're being ridiculous," she says simply, reaching out past the man to tug Santana's crossed arms, effectively pulling her into the house.

The man huffs in disapproval as he seals the door behind them, nearly falling against it before steadying himself once more. Santana can't help but feel suddenly caged, instantly starting to understand at least a little bit of what Quinn must have felt all of these years. All of her instincts are telling her to just run the fuck out of this hellhole while she still has the chance, but she owes it to Quinn to do this.

Judy just wraps an arm around the Latina's waist as she leads her further into the house and, thankfully, away from the drunk at the door. She doesn't speak and she walks briskly, forcing Santana to walk a little faster than she had expected but also earning the Latina's unspoken thanks for the quick escape. They make it about halfway up the stairwell before Russell's voice echoes up from the bottom of the stairs.

"You know, it's only a matter of time before we get our own Bill 1070 and we can kick all you lazy fucks back down _Meh-hee-co_ way!" he over-enunciates.

Santana rolls her eyes―I mean, _come on_, she's not even Mexican―but Judy doesn't miss a step as she leads the girl right into Quinn's room, quickly sealing and locking the door behind them. The woman advances to the bed and takes a seat on its edge, running incredibly exhausted hands over her face. As Santana watches, she's amazed. The woman looks like she's aged a solid ten years rather than the less than a year it's been since the Latina last saw her at Regionals.

Santana just shakes the thought and sets to collecting Quinn's things, placing the duffle bag down next to Judy on the bed before heading over to the dresser.

"She's staying with you?" the woman's soft voice comes.

Santana turns around with an eyebrow arched, a small pile of clothes in her hands, and just nods.

"Good," she breathes out with a sigh of relief and a slight smile. "At least I know she's safe."

The Latina nods lightly as she turns back towards the dresser, grabbing some odds and ends from atop it before heading back to the bed, back to Judy's side. She starts to pack the clothes and other items into the bag, but it's not long before the anger stats to well up and she begins to twist a shirt nearly into oblivion between her hands. She can't keep her mouth shut anymore.

"Why are you letting him stay?" she asks tersely, almost through gritted teeth, and as soon as the words leave her lips she wrenches her eyes shut, mentally chiding herself for being such a bitch about it. I mean, she shouldn't really be angry with _Judy_ in all of this, right? _She's a victim too, isn't she?_

The older woman runs her hands over her face once more, a little more roughly this time, before looking up uncertainly. She opens her mouth a few times, as if to speak, but no sound comes out, the woman seeming to be at a loss as to what to say. She sighs heavily, dejectedly, before she finally does come up with something to say. "When I look into his eyes, I don't see the monster he's become... the monster he is when he drinks. I see the prom king I fell in love with... _my_ prom king," she amends sadly.

Santana nods once more, though it still doesn't really make any sense to her. _The guy's a douche, kick him the fuck out. Plain and simple_. But, if there's one thing she's sure of right now it's that the elder Fabray woman probably doesn't want her two cents on the matter... not that that means she's gonna let it completely slide.

"You should talk to Quinn, you know," she says absently as she starts to head towards the closet.

A sigh comes from behind her, and a few moments of silence settle in before the woman's soft voice comes again. "I just want to give her time... time away from _him_."

Santana spins on her heel, her brow furrowed, and this time there _is_ a bit of (what she feels to be) justified anger welling up. "She doesn't need 'time'... she needs _her mother_."

It's said perhaps a bit more harshly than she had intended, but it most certainly gets the point across. Judy seems taken aback by it, and her tears start to flow freely as she drops her head into her hands.

_Sweet_, Santana thinks to herself, reflexively rolling her eyes, sarcasm dripping even from her inner voice. _More crying_.

She releases a deep sigh but turns her attention back to grabbing things from the closet. A few minutes of silence in the room pass before a voice rumbles up from downstairs, loud enough to hear through the closed door.

"What, is she having a fucking siesta up there?"

Santana rolls her eyes with a bit of a groan before turning around, her arms full of clothes, and shaking her head warningly. "He keeps that racist shit up and I'm gonna bust him open like a fucking _piñata_."

Judy chuckles through the tears as Santana makes her way back over to the bed. "You're a good friend to my Quinnie," she lets out quietly, earning the Latina's attention, staring up at the young girl with soft eyes and the faintest hint of a smile. "And you have been all these years―" _Not entirely true_, Santana thinks, but decides to keep it to herself. "―And I... I just want to say thank you, Santana." She looks up in earnest. "Thank you for looking out for Quinn when I couldn't... when I _can't_."

The Latina shrugs awkwardly and lets out a sigh as she places the last of the clothes into the bag. Her brow knits before she looks over at the woman again, but her posture softens. "Has he been hitting you?" she asks carefully, curiously, genuinely concerned about the well-being of her best friend's mother.

Judy shifts uncomfortably in her seat, crossing her legs and smoothing her hands over the fabric of her tweed skirt, essentially answering the question without saying anything. Santana sighs and takes a look over the woman―the caked on foundation, the turtleneck, the long-sleeved sport coat... all more telling than the woman probably ever realized.

"You're good," she says simply, drawing a confused expression from the older blonde. "At hiding the bruises," she elaborates, and Judy looks down in shame. "Doesn't make them go away, though," she adds as a mumble as she heads over to Quinn's desk.

When she turns back towards the bed, Judy is still slouched over, looking completely crushed, and it makes her sigh again. She lets a soft expression spread across her face as she softly pads over. "You deserve better than this, you know." The woman just nods slowly, sadly, her eyes still down. "And _so does Quinn_."

Judy looks up at that and nods zealously in agreement, and, as Santana zips the bag up and hoists it over her shoulder, she stands up from the bed. She places her hands on either of the Latina's shoulders, turning the girl to face her. "You're a good kid, Santana. Don't let anyone ever convince you otherwise," she smiles softly.

Santana smiles awkwardly and it only turns all the more awkward when she's pulled into a hug by the older woman. It doesn't feel like one of Kevin's calming, reassuring hugs, it feels almost cold... empty somehow. Santana immediately starts to wonder just how broken the older Fabray woman is and if it's even possible to put the pieces back together.

"Take care of Quinn?" the woman pleads softly as she pulls away, and Santana just nods.

"Of course," she says with equal softness before she grows firm. "You take care of yourself."

Judy nods. "I'll try."

Santana just nods in return, not really knowing what else to do or say, before turning to leave the room. Fact is, she finally has a chance to get the fuck out of here and she doesn't want to stick around any longer than she absolutely has to.

Russell is pretty much waiting for her when she gets to the bottom of the stairwell, though, and he starts to follow her as she heads towards the door. "Have a nice time with my _slut_ daughter," he smirks out, suddenly sounding exceptionally smug.

This is when Santana finally snaps. Though she hasn't had all that much, she's had just about all the drunk rambling she can handle―especially from this fucking joke of a human being at her back. She spins on her heel and the man almost walks right into her. They're nearly eye to eye, though Russell has a few inches on her, but she's not intimidated in the least. "I bet it really gets you off, huh?"

He looks confused, maybe even more surprised than anything else as his brow knits. "Excuse me?"

Santana grins maliciously. "All that power. The power to beat your wife and kid and stomp around like you own the entire fucking universe... makes you feel like a _real_ man, doesn't it?"

She can see anger quickly spreading across the man's face once more, his eyes narrowing into pin pricks, but it only spurs her on.

She takes another step forward, pushing a hand against the man's chest, causing him to stumble slightly back. "Yeah, it's always guys like you, isn't it? Such a fucking mess that you have to compensate by taking your inadequacies out on others."

"You get the fucking hell out of my house, right now!" the man's voice booms, and when he raises his hand to point at the door, Santana slightly flinches. While she's relatively sure that the man wouldn't have the balls to hit _her_, she's seen enough to know what alcohol can make people do in the heat of the moment.

She chuckles incredulously with a smug smile. "Oh, _trust me_, I wouldn't stay here with you―you fucking tiny-dick, drunk-ass, _honky_-doodle-dandy―if it were my only option."

With the rage that flickers across the man's eyes, Santana doesn't wait for a retort, instead thinking this is probably about the right time to get the fuck outta Dodge. She spins and starts moving quickly towards the door, feeling Russell following close behind.

She doesn't look back, though. She just rushes out of the house, into to her car, and pulls out of the driveway as quickly as humanly possible, the only thought on her mind being: _Well, it could've gone worse..._

* * *

The rest of the day passes by with much less drama, Quinn essentially professing her undying love to Santana for doing the dirty work, and it's not until after dinnertime when Puck and Rachel show up for the group hang―which is essentially also functioning as the foursome's first double date. Things progress relatively well, everyone getting along as they watch a movie and laugh over various happenings at WMHS over the past little while.

When the movie ends Puck excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and idle chatter commences between the girls for a short while before Santana catches movement from the hallway. When she looks over she can see that Puck has reappeared in the doorway, but he isn't entering the room, he's waving at her. She arches a curious eyebrow. He lifts his chin slightly at her to keep her attention before raising his thumb and forefinger to his pursed lips a few times and gesturing his head towards the garage door. Santana's eyes widen in realization and she nods before trying to figure out how to excuse herself from the room.

"Ok, well I'm gonna go feed Zee..." she says simply as she slides her hand out from around Rachel's back and moves to stand, the kitten in question luckily hopping off of Quinn's lap to follow along. "So... I'll be back in a few," she smiles down at the two girls on the couch, who just nod in understanding.

Santana practically skips out into the hall with a bit of a mischievous grin, and she just waves Puck after her as she heads towards the door. She cracks it open as silently as possible and the two step down into the significantly colder room, Zee following along as if she were aware of the plan.

The garage used to be Santana's chill pad when she had people over, essentially inherited from her father after he left. It was the ideal spot to hang out―having been converted so that it was relatively well-insulated as well as furnished with a sofa, a fridge, and a pool table―but it had been painfully underused over the past 6 months. With the absence of her mother there had just been no reason to retreat to what used to be her hiding place when her mom got to be too much.

The pair settle down onto the old, raggedy couch, and Zee hops up to curl into Santana's lap. Puck reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and fishes out a well-worn Altoids tin, cracking it open to reveal a small baggie filled with green buds, a pack of rolling papers, and a cigar-papered roll. He pulls out the tight-rolled blunt, raising it up like it was the Holy Grail.

Santana's eyes widen. "Shit, Puck..." she draws out warily as she watches the boy wet the tip of the roll between his lips. "I haven't smoked since summer. That thing's gonna absolutely floor me."

Puck looks over with a bit of a scoff as he roots around in his back pocket for a lighter. "San, I love you and all, but I don't love you enough to let you in on all of _this_," he smirks as he holds up the blunt once more, gesturing at it with his now lighter-wielding hand. "This is fucking prime bud in a juice wrap. It's gonna taste like fucking heaven and you're gonna be floored in two dips, tops."

Santana just arches an eyebrow and scoffs lightly, sincerely doubting the boy's words, as he sets to lighting it. A small funnel of smoke starts to emanate from the tip of the burning cigar paper and a familiar smell starts to spread slowly throughout the room as Puck blows softly onto the burning embers.

He turns towards her with a soft smile once the joint starts a slow, steady burn. "Ladies first."

Santana smiles in return, using a hand to lower Zee to the ground before taking the blunt and raising it to her lips, slightly smiling at the hint of vanilla that she can immediately taste from the paper. She inhales slowly, deeply, feeling the familiar warmth brush against her teeth, her throat, the mixture of flavours being―as touted―quite pleasant. She exhales just as slowly, more like she's breathing out a natural breath than trying to expel the smoke from her body, the billowing cloud of smoke lingering in front of her for a long while. There's nothing harsh about the experience, and the warmth quickly starts to spread from her lungs outwards through her body to her fingertips, her toes, and into her head, where she suddenly feels an enjoyable lightness.

She takes her second pull just as slowly, savouring the feel of it, the taste of it, and almost instantly her smile grows slightly lazy and her eyelids slightly heavy. She holds the blunt out in front of her body, staring at it in a bit of amazement. _If there's one thing Puck knows, it's where to score good weed―_perhaps one of the few benefits of living in Lima Heights adjacent.

She exhales as she turns towards the boy in her seat, ashing on the cement floor before handing off the blunt, an eyebrow raised in sudden curiosity. "Have you ever been with a girl who said they weren't ready for sex?" she asks curiously, softly.

"Yeah, plenty of times..." Puck replies simply, his own eyebrow raised as he raises the roll to his own lips.

Santana's brow slightly furrows. "How did you put up with it?" she questions as the boy takes a deep inhale.

Puck glances over in a bit of disbelief, holding the smoke in, before arching his head up and blowing it out in a long, smooth stream. When he looks back over again it's with a shake of his head and a slight shrug. "Easy, I had sex with them," he says plainly, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world, before taking another pull.

The Latina rolls her eyes with a slight groan. "Yeah, thanks for the help, Pucky."

Once the boy exhales, he looks over with wide eyes, seemingly having just clued in. "Oh my god, you guys _still_ didn't have sex..." he remarks with a bit of surprise, holding out the roll for the Santana to take once more.

She shrugs as she takes the blunt. "Whatever, it's been like two extra days," she says absently, raising her hand up to take another puff.

Puck's brow is still down. "Which makes almost three weeks of dating... which makes almost three weeks of no nookie..." he reasons.

Santana exhales and it quickly devolves into a sigh. "More like a month, actually," she mutters under her breath, smoke still billowing out, causing the boy to arch an eyebrow.

"Wait, wait, wait..." he shakes his head slightly. "Are you saying... was _I_ the last person you slept with?"

Santana rolls her eyes mid-drag. She breathes the smoke back out before looking over at the boy with a bit of a glare and holding her hand out.

Puck just chuckles as he takes the blunt back, "Killer."

Santana arches a curious eyebrow, though, just as he's inhaling. "Was _I_ the last person _you_ slept with?"

Puck exhales, looking at the cloud of smoke in front of his face in seeming thought before turning towards the Latina, his mouth opening slightly as if he's about to say something. His eyes are vacant, though, and Santana can tell that he's high beyond all reason even before he takes the subsequent pull. He releases the next stream of smoke before offering the blunt to Santana again, who just shakes her head. He extinguishes it on the cement and tosses it back into the tin before looking over somewhat confusedly.

"Shut up," is what he settles on when he finally speaks.

Santana chuckles softly with a shake of her head. "You're so fucking stoned."

Puck arches an eyebrow in challenge. "Oh yeah? I'd like to see _you_ get up from this couch right now."

The Latina focuses on her muscles, which feel incredibly heavy at the moment. This couch is already too soft, too cushy―which is why it was relegated to the garage in the first place―and trying to get out if it is like trying to climb out of a pit of tar even when you're _not_ stoned.

"You first," she says simply as she realizes that it's just not happening right now.

Puck just shakes his head slowly. "Ladies first," he repeats with a smirk.

Santana rolls her eyes, but the fact is she just can't compel herself to move right now. She's managed to smoke herself right into the couch, it currently feeling like an extension of her actual body. And, truth be told, she's kind of liking the feeling of floating around in her own head and away from all bad thoughts at the moment.

She's not sure how long they sit there wordlessly, motionlessly, but it's only when Zee jumps back into her lap that she somewhat snaps back into the waking world.

"We should go back in," she says abruptly, a little groggily. "They're gonna be wondering where we are."

The boy shrugs. "Quinn will know," he replies absently.

Santana just wipes at her, surely, bloodshot eyes before placing Zee back on the ground and somewhat rolling off of the couch quite ungracefully. When she turns back towards the piece of furniture, Puck hasn't moved and she rolls her eyes.

"Quinn's naked!" she says suddenly, and the boy's head immediately snaps up.

"What?"

Santana smiles, "Yeah, I figured that'd get your attention. Let's get the fuck out of here, Loserface."

Puck groans, but they _do_ leave the garage, both stopping in the washroom to wash their hands and slightly rinse out their mouths before heading back into the living room―where, surprisingly, Quinn has not yet murdered Rachel.

The two couch occupants look up with raised eyebrows as the pair enter the room, Rachel sniffing pronouncedly at the air.

"What's that smell?" she asks curiously.

Both Puck and Santana lapse into a bit of a fit of the giggles, and Quinn just shakes her head and rolls her eyes knowingly.

"Uh, we took the garbage out. It was pretty rank," Santana offers lamely with a bit of an involuntary smirk.

Puck can't fight the laughter that escapes through the hand clamped over his mouth as he settles back onto the couch next to Quinn, and the blonde slaps his shoulder in reprimand―though it's unclear whether it's reprimand for the laughter or for the weed.

Rachel still looks entirely confused as Santana settles down next to her, but just lightly shrugs. "So, what kind of movie should we watch next?"

"Comedy," Santana and Puck voice in unison, causing both of them to fall into giggles again. Quinn starts to laugh a bit at the ridiculousness of the situation, and Rachel still looks entirely confused.

Santana just looks over at the diva with a bit of an apologetic smile before leaning in to kiss her tenderly.

"You taste like vanilla," Rachel breathes out softly when the Latina pulls back.

Santana arches an eyebrow and chances a quick glance over the diva's shoulder to the other two, who have fallen into their own conversation, before grinning and leaning into the girl's ear. "You know, there's a distinct possibility that I taste like that _everywhere_," she husks out, delivering a light nibble to the diva's earlobe before pulling back, wearing a wide smile.

Rachel looks down with a heavy blush, but Santana just hooks a finger beneath her chin, letting their eyes meet for a brief moment, a moment that makes Santana's breath hitch, before leaning in to kiss the girl again, though a little deeper this time. She runs her tongue along the split of the diva's lips and the singer lets her in. The mere contact of their tongues makes Santana feel and see fireworks, ever-changing colours flashing across her closed eyelids, an irresistible tingling sensation running along every point of contact, her senses currently intensified by the weed. She wants to feel more of the fire and so reaches out to run her hands along the diva's sides, the same tingling running up through her fingertips and quickly spreading throughout her body. Rachel's hands settle around her neck once more, and the embrace lasts a surprisingly long before it's interrupted.

Quinn clears her throat pronouncedly. "You know, I'd like to retain my eyesight until _at least_ 20, so calm your shit, ladies," her voice comes, though it just makes Santana smirk against the diva's mouth. She groans when the next voice comes, though.

"No, no, no," Puck pleads, waving the blonde off with a hand. "I'm actually _enjoying_ this," he adds with a lascivious grin, licking his lips, earning nothing but a resounding slap on the shoulder from Quinn―one that echoes around the small room. "Hey!" he recoils.

Santana pulls away from Rachel's lips with a satisfied smirk, sticking her tongue out at the boy before turning her attention back to the girl in front of her―whose eyes are still closed, her mouth still hanging slightly open, seemingly having been kissed into a comatose state. Santana's smile spreads as she runs a hand along the diva's cheek. "Hey," she breathes out softly, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of the girl's mouth. "You still with us?"

Rachel's nearly black eyes slowly slide open and she shoots Santana a breathless and absolutely smouldering look, a look that makes Santana want to fucking tackle the diva onto the couch―Quinn and Puck be damned―and have her own way with the girl right now. She holds back, though. While she has no qualms about making Quinn feel as uncomfortable as possible (as often as possible), doing so right now would just satisfy Puck, and, well, _Fuck that_. She pulls her hands away but balls them into fists, the only way she can think to keep them to herself, before looking over at the other two and swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Uh, yeah... so... a movie... a _comedy_..." She clears her throat awkwardly, noticing how Puck is still grinning at her and Quinn is still shaking her head. "Any requests?"

* * *

They make it about halfway through 'The Hangover' before the pasties and the munchies completely set in and Santana starts to feel like she's been stranded on a desert island for a year. Swallowing to lubricate her mouth is no longer working and there's too much sandpapery-ness going on for comfort. She abruptly untangles herself from Rachel and stands, turning towards the other three couch occupants.

"I'm gonna go grab something to drink..." Her stomach rumbles, and she raises a hand to it as if it would retroactively quell the noise. "And maybe some snacks, too," she adds a bit sheepishly.

Quinn pauses the movie before looking up with a smile. "I'll come with you."

Santana just nods in acquiescence, shooting a soft smile down at Rachel before heading off, the blonde following close behind.

They head into the kitchen and Quinn throws a bag of popcorn into the microwave as Santana downs a glass of water and sets to making a jug of frozen juice.

"Santana!" Rachel's voice comes from the living room.

"Yeah?" she yells back.

"Can you bring some fruit, too?"

"Ok!"

Quinn takes a spot leaning against the counter as she opens the bag of popcorn to let the steam escape, watching with a bit of a smirk as Santana heads back to the fridge and grabs some berries. "Dude, you are _so_ whipped," she chuckles out.

Santana turns from the sink with an eyebrow arched. "I am _not_," she breathes out incredulously before turning back to wash the fruit. She's just transferring it into a bowl when the diva's voice comes again.

"Oh, and maybe a glass of juice, too?"

Santana groans and Quinn just chuckles and shakes her head.

"Yeah, sure!" she yells back automatically before heading to the cupboard to grab another glass.

"Hey S," the blonde says simply as she pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth. "You forgot something."

Santana turns around with a questioning eyebrow arched, the two glasses of juice and a bowl of freshly washed berries held between her hands. "Hm?"

Quinn smirks heavily as she pops another piece of popcorn into her mouth. "Your balls."

Santana's eyes slightly widen for the briefest of moments. Despite her high state, the blonde's words hit a little close to home. She prides herself on many things, and nearly first and foremost on that list is her independence. If there's one thing Santana Lopez has _never_ been, it's whipped... unless we're talking in the literal sense, but that's neither here nor there. She doesn't let herself be positioned under anyone's thumb, under anyone else's control. So, in this case, if there's one thing she's absolutely sure of, it's: _I am _not_ whipped by Rachel-fucking-Berry_.

She rolls her eyes heavily before shooting a cutting glare at the blonde. "I hope you choke on that shit, Q." Quinn just laughs and the pair make their way back into the living room.

When they enter the room, Rachel looks over excitedly. "Ooh! I'm glad you two are back! I was just having the most wonderful conversation with Noah about songs I could sing for glee when we get back."

Puck looks over at the pair with wide eyes and a slow, warning shake of his head. Quinn groans as she drops back onto the couch, deciding to silence herself with more popcorn, and Santana just smiles and shakes her head lightly as she places the glasses down on the coffee table.

She settles back down onto her corner of the couch, letting her arm drift around the diva's back once more. "Oh yeah?"

Rachel nods excitedly before her brow slightly furrows. "Well, I suppose _I_ mainly talked while he listened, but still..."

Santana just smiles further, chancing a glance past the diva to Puck, who seems to be burning out pretty hard at the moment. She turns her attention back to the girl in her arms. "So, what were you thinking?"

"I've decided that I really want to test my vocal range, and that the best way to do so is to perform a number by none other than Mariah Carey." Santana just nods encouragingly, and the diva's brow furrows again. "The problem is her catalogue is just so extensive that I can't seem to hone in on a single song. Noah wasn't much help as he doesn't seem to know _any_ Mariah Carey songs at all," Santana glances over at the boy who just shrugs. "So I'm turning to you two. What are your favourite Mariah songs?"

She turns towards Quinn excitedly, and the blonde rolls her eyes and grumbles slightly. "I guess I like 'Heartbreaker'?" she shrugs.

Rachel scrunches her face, quite adorably if you ask Santana. "It's a little too hip-hop-ish for my tastes, as are most of her more recent efforts. I'm thinking something more from her back catalogue." The blonde just shrugs, and the diva turns towards Santana expectantly.

The Latina slightly shrugs as well. "I don't know, I've been listening to 'Emotions' a lot lately..."

Rachel thinks it over, seemingly listening to the song inside of her own head, before furrowing her brow and pouting slightly. "Believe it or not, I'm not entirely sure I could hit that high note."

Santana smirks, pulling her hand back to tickle it along the diva's hip. "I'm pretty sure I could help with that..."

Rachel's face immediately washes over in a deep blush; Puck's jaw drops and his eyes glaze over as he stares over at the pair; and Quinn raises a hand to her chest as she slightly gags.

"Oh my god, I'm going to throw up on your floor," she struggles out.

Santana rolls her eyes, but reaches around the diva's back to punch the blonde in the shoulder. "Just keep it out of the popcorn, huh?" she teases, earning nothing but a glare in return.

* * *

They soon set back to watching the movie, and by the time it finishes it's well on into the night. Santana releases a relatively epic yawn before she glances down at her watch, starting to feel a bit of the burnout herself. She sighs before leaning down and kissing the head that's resting on her shoulder.

"You should probably call Kevin to come get you," she suggests softly.

Rachel looks up with a bit of a sad smile and a nod. "I wish I could stay," she sighs as she pulls out her phone, deciding to text her father instead.

"Me too," Santana returns the smile before leaning in to softly press her lips against the side of diva's head.

She glances over to the other side of the couch to see that Puck has fallen asleep with his head on the back of the couch, and that Quinn has fallen asleep on his shoulder, the boy's lumbering arm protectively draped over her. Santana smiles lightly, figuring she'll just let them sleep until the diva's gone. She lifts to her feet and guides Rachel by the hand out into the hallway.

When they reach the entryway, Santana turns around to face the diva, and they just stare at each other with shy smiles for a few long moments, suddenly at a loss for words. Rachel bites her lip, and Santana takes to chewing her own in return, and really, the only thing she wants to do right now is tackle the diva to the ground.

Santana finally breaks the armistice, stepping forward to slightly close the gap between their bodies. "I really like this shirt on you," she breathes out softly as she slightly tugs at the hem of the diva's plaid, button-down top. It's the first time she's seen Rachel wear a button up that wasn't pure white, and she finds herself quite liking it. (Doesn't hurt that it manages to cling to her torso in all the right places... or that the top three buttons are undone, allowing the diva's cleavage to peek out slightly.)

Rachel slightly smirks. "I bet you'd like it better off of me..."

Santana's eyes slightly widen before she arches a playful eyebrow. "_True_... but I still prefer _this_," she tugs on the shirt once more, "over the sweaters." She lets her hands start to ghost up the sides of the top. "You should wear stuff like this more often..." she trails off, letting her hands drift around the diva's front as she leans into her ear. "You look so fucking sexy right now," she husks out, brushing her thumbs over the girl's nipples and feeling the response through her shirt, through her bra.

Rachel shivers, her body reacting quite pronouncedly to the contact, but shakes her head when the Latina leans back. "I look like a lumberjack."

Santana just grins. "Well, you _are_ giving me wood, so..." she trails off with a slight shrug, earning a slap on the shoulder. She just raises her eyebrows with a smile and leans in to kiss the diva deeply, the embrace quickly heating. She lets her hands start to drift slightly up the diva's top, across her back, knowing it's a bad idea to get herself worked up right now but unable to fight it, the girl's skin feeling absolutely fucking electric against her hands.

After a few long moments she reluctantly pulls away, letting her forehead drop to rest against the shorter girl's. Her breath is ragged and her eyes are dark, and as she looks down the diva's body, she finds herself licking her lips. "_God_... every time I touch you, I just... I want to touch _more_ of you," she husks out.

Rachel blushes heavily. "Stop it," she whispers out bashfully.

"I'm serious," Santana assures the girl.

Rachel looks up, meeting the Latina's eyes with her own. "I know. And I _want_ you to touch more of me."

Santana's jaw drops slightly and she arches a questioning eyebrow. "Yeah?"

The diva nods against her forehead. "Yeah," she whispers.

The Latina licks her lips again, not breaking eye contact, her hands still roaming along the diva's bare back and her mind racing. _Why the fuck can't she just spend the night?_ she thinks with a bit of a frustrated sigh.

"And I want to touch you more, too," Rachel adds, causing an absolute surge to run through Santana's body.

Santana slides her hands around to the diva's abs before pushing her back against the wall, hard, relatively sure that Puck and Quinn must have heard the impact. She stares into the diva's impossibly dark eyes for a moment before leaning in to capture the girl's lips again, a distinct and familiar throbbing starting between her legs. Rachel's arms wrap around the Latina's neck, a hand tangling in her hair as the diva fully sinks into the embrace as well. Santana moves her body flush against the diva's own, basically pinning her against the wall, as she lets her hands drift up the girl's top, brushing her thumbs against the girl's nipples with one less barrier now, earning an absolutely delicious moan that she swallows whole. She's completely convinced that she could spend the rest of her life just making out with this girl.

Just as quickly as the thought comes, though, it's erased, drowned out by a horn from the driveway. Santana groans and pulls her head back, dropping it to rest against the diva's once more. "I thought a bright side of being back here was gonna be _no_ bed police."

Rachel chuckles and lightly shakes her head. "Unfortunately, I think that's actually part of the problem."

Santana sighs, though she knows it's true. Chances are Kevin and David would be much more receptive to the idea of Rachel spending the night if there were a parental figure around. She doesn't know what to say, though, so she just nods.

Rachel smiles in return, lifting to her toes to kiss the Latina softly before sliding along the wall and moving to get her coat from the closet.

"So..." the diva starts as she pulls on the jacket. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

Santana arches a confused eyebrow, "Tomorrow?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, stepping forward to take the Latina's hands into her own, "Christmas dinner. I _told_ you that you would be spending the day with me and my fathers."

Santana's brow furrows. "Well, yeah... but things are kind of different now... I mean, Q's here."

The diva just shrugs, not missing a beat. "So invite her. The more the merrier," she says cheerfully with a wide smile.

Santana just stares at the girl in slight amazement with a shake of her head. Every single time she thinks that Rachel couldn't be any more adorable... She leans in to kiss the diva again, shifting the grip of their hands so that their fingers are twined. The kisses are deep but chaste, and Santana tries to deepen the embrace, lightly biting at the diva's lower lip, but Rachel pulls away.

"Tomorrow," she breathes out softly, looking up at the Latina with a shy smile.

Santana sighs but nods. "Tomorrow."

* * *

**Well, canon!Santana smokes cigars, now we know what they're filled with ;)**

**The Mariah song that Santana suggests is 'Emotions', if you're unfamiliar with it I suggest you look up the lyrics.**

**Oh, and Bill 1070―mentioned by Russell―is the bill that was enacted into law in Arizona about a year ago that basically legalized racial profiling.**

**Barring a nuclear holocaust, next week's chapter will be up on time :D**

**And, finally, thanks again for reading/waiting! (Long endnote is long.)**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Fair warning, this is literally completely unedited due to lack of time, so I hope it at least makes sense ;)**

* * *

Santana wakes in the morning feeling refreshed, an extra awesome dream having helped in that department. Something with Rachel and whips and chains, and suddenly being whipped didn't really sound all that bad. She wears a slightly mischievous smile as she heads off to start her morning routine.

She ended up letting Puck stay the night, figuring that the boy can take it as his Christmas gift. Quinn made him sleep on the couch anyway―probably because of the weed―and he slipped out on his own early in the morning. Despite his shitty family situation of late, he still had a shitty family Christmas to attend.

By the time Santana gets dressed and goes downstairs, Quinn is lounging on the living room couch with a cup of tea and a book. "Hey," she greets softly when she catches sight of the Latina.

"Hey," Santana smiles in return. "So... I have something for you," she says playfully as she enters the room, her hands hidden behind her back.

Quinn arches a wary eyebrow. "Really?" she asks cautiously.

Santana just nods as she settles down on the edge of the couch, pulling a relatively small gift bag out from behind her back and placing it down by the blonde's legs. "Merry Christmas," she smiles softly.

Quinn looks down at the bag wide-eyed, then over to the brunette. "S..." it comes out as a bit of a whine, a guilty look across her features as she pulls herself upright, placing her book and mug down on the coffee table. "I didn't get you anything..."

Santana scoffs lightly and waves a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it, Q. It's not like we talked about exchanging gifts or anything, I just saw it and thought it would be perfect for you." The blonde's expression doesn't shift, though, the girl still looking apologetic as hell, and Santana rolls her eyes. "Just open it, fatty," she smiles.

Quinn's brow drops and she shakes her head for a moment before she finally chances a glance down into the bag between her hands. She gently shifts the tissue paper aside, and when she catches sight of the gift, all the colour drains from her face. She looks back up with an absolute glare. "What the fuck is that?"

Santana smirks. "Well, what the fuck do you think it is?"

Quinn pushes the bag away from her body along the couch. "I think it's the most ridiculous thing you could have ever gotten me. I wouldn't even know what to do with it," she shakes her head.

The Latina arches an eyebrow. "Well, you know, I would've thought you'd be familiar with the mechanics involved in these things by now..." She holds up a loose fist before inserting two fingers into it. "It's pretty fucking simple."

Quinn looks slightly mortified but rolls her eyes. "Thanks for the sex ed. lesson, perv."

Santana shrugs a shoulder before an absolutely lecherous grin spreads across her lips. "I could always give you a _personal_ lesson, if you want... you know, _show _you how to use it..." she adds with a raise of her eyebrows.

The blonde's eyes widen and she laughs incredulously.

Santana lets her mouth settle back into a soft smile. "Seriously though, Q, you need to get fucking laid. And that," she gestures down to the bag sitting on the middle cushion between them. "Is one of the best products on the market."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "And why do I need it? I'm dating Puck now."

The Latina just arches an eyebrow and huffs a laugh. "You telling me you're spreading them for Pucky already?" she asks teasingly knowing full well it's not the case.

Quinn lightly blushes, despite herself. "Well, no..."

Santana just leans forward and reaches into the bag, grabbing the, ahem, package and tossing it onto the blonde's lap. Quinn nearly recoils right off of the couch, and Santana rolls her eyes though her expression grows tender.

"You don't have to use it if you don't want to, obviously. Just don't be so fucking terrified of it. I know you were raised all 'Catholic-guilt' and shit, but it's totally normal to masturbate, Q."

The blonde laughs in absolute mortification and raises a hand over her eyes. "Oh my god, I seriously cannot believe we're having this conversation."

Santana arches a curious eyebrow, "Why not? We're fucking BFFs or whatever, aren't we?"

Quinn nods but doesn't drop her hand, and Santana presses on.

"And friends can talk about sex and have it not be weird, right?"

The blonde shakes her head. "For the record, I don't want to know _anything_ about you and Rachel's sex life."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Well I already knew _that_. Besides, there's still nothing to tell."

Quinn drops her hand, slightly wide-eyed. "Really?" she asks a little disbelievingly.

The Latina nods. "She's a virgin."

Quinn huffs a laugh. "Oh my god, Man-Hands still has her v-card."

Santana just leans forward and punches her shoulder, hard.

The blonde winces and raises a hand to the soon-to-be bruise, looking positively offended. "What the fuck, S?"

"Nicknames," the brunette responds simply. "You don't seem to be learning, so we're gonna try some aversion therapy. Enter: your unpleasant sensation."

Quinn groans and rolls her eyes, rubbing her throbbing shoulder as she looks over curiously, unable to fight the urge to ask. "So... how _are_ you dealing with the no sex? I mean, that's kind of your thing, isn't it?"

Santana just sighs, picking up the vibrator and handing it to Quinn, who actually takes it into one of her hands this time. "Like I said: masturbation. Completely normal."

The blonde shakes her head lightly with a bit of a smile. "I am never touching your hand again."

Santana chuckles and Quinn takes to looking at the packaging between her hands. It makes Santana smile, even though she's relatively sure the girl's only doing it to humour her.

"So... we're having dinner with the Berries tonight," she says simply after a bit of a silence, looking up with a bit of an apologetic smile.

Quinn drops the package back onto the couch and looks over wide-eyed. "You want me to have dinner with you, Rachel, and Rachel's dads?" The brunette nods, and she scoffs with a bit of a derisive laugh. "No thank you, fifth wheel."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Come on, Q. It'd be ridiculous for you to stay here all by yourself on Christmas Day."

"Well, I wouldn't _be_ all by myself, I'd be taking care of the little chimpan-Zee!" She goes high-pitched at the end, leaning towards the top of the couch to nuzzle her nose against the kitten in question.

Santana laughs slightly at the action. "Well, what about if I just kicked you out of my house for, say, four hours?" she teases, earning a roll of the eyes. She quickly grows serious, though, and wonders whether she's hitting below the belt as she speaks. "Q..." she starts carefully, a bit hesitantly. "Your mom knows you're here... which means your dad probably knows you're here... do you really want to run the risk of him showing up here while you're alone?"

Quinn sighs heavily, and the look she shoots the Latina is pointed, almost frustrated, and Santana immediately knows it was a low-blow. "I suppose not," she grinds out through gritted teeth. It's a few long moments before she drops her gaze with another sigh. "Fine," she cedes softly.

Santana just nods with a smile. "Good then, it's settled. You'll just have to stomach whatever the fuck 'Tofurkey' is with me," she says with an involuntary grimace.

The blonde's face washes over in complete disgust. "What the―" she starts before raising a hand. "No, you know what? Nevermind," she shakes her head. "It's probably better if I don't even know."

Santana chuckles again before smiling. "It's gonna be ok, Q. We just show up and get free food and slightly awkward conversation," she says light-heartedly with a bit of a shrug.

Quinn sighs lightly and shakes her head. "Her dads probably hate me."

The brunette nods, "Very likely. But, if they can forgive _me_ then they can probably forgive you, too. Besides, you're just a dinner guest, it's not like you're trying to have sex with Rachel or something," she slightly smirks.

Quinn raises a hand to her chest and swallows heavily. "That might be the most disgusting thing you've ever said to me."

Santana rolls her eyes before shaking her head with a bit of a chuckle, already relatively sure this is going to be one of the more interesting dinners she's ever attended.

* * *

It's not until close to 6 when Quinn and Santana head over to the Berry household for Christmas dinner. The first meeting goes about as awkwardly as expected―David being as unimpressed, if not even more, by Quinn's presence as he was by Santana's initially―but by the time dinner is ready and everyone sits down to eat, the mood has lightened considerably.

They dine on the Tofurkey, fresh steamed vegetables, some sort of squash casserole, as well as vegan-prepared mashed potatoes and vegan gravy, the food not tasting nearly as bad as either Santana or Quinn had expected. They make idle chatter around the table, ploughing through a good portion of the meal before the conversation shifts slightly.

"So, Quinn," Kevin starts, looking over at the blonde curiously. "Your last name's Fabray, right?" The girl nods. "You're Russell Fabray's daughter?" She nods again, and Kevin nods lightly in return. "Funny coincidence... or not, considering this is Lima..." he trails off, slightly lost in thought. "_Anyway_, we went to high school with him," he gestures between himself and his husband, who is looking down at his plate. "And I've also had the privilege of dealing with him a few times through work. He's..." the man furrows his brow in thought, not wanting to insult the new guest's family. "Well, he's quite the character."

David huffs slightly as he takes a bite of his food. "Understatement," he mumbles out with no small amount of animosity in his voice, earning a bit of a glare from Kevin.

Quinn actually slightly laughs at that. "Yeah," she sighs out a little awkwardly, not really wanting to talk about the man right now―who seems to be absolutely impossible to escape, even in conversation.

David looks up at her with an eyebrow raised. "Did I hear right, that your parents got divorced?"

She shakes her head. "Just separated, nothing official or anything."

He nods. "So it's just you and your mom alone in that big house now?"

"Uhh," Quinn lets out slightly wide-eyed, looking over at Santana, who is across the table from her, a bit pleadingly.

Santana clears her throat. "She's actually staying with me right now."

Raised eyebrows come from both Kevin and David, who are now staring at the Latina in interest. She just shoots them both a look and a slight shake of her head to let them know that it's probably best not to talk about the particulars of the situation.

Kevin seems to get it and he nods knowingly. "Well that sounds like a nice time," he smiles softly as he looks over at Quinn.

Quinn just nods in return, and a silence settles in for a moment.

"So how was everyone's last week of school?" Kevin asks curiously, trying to ease the bit of discomfort that has migrated into the room as he alternates his stare between the three girls around the table.

"Santana got suspended," Quinn chuckles, wanting to shift the attention away from herself, earning an absolute glare from the Latina across from her that makes her slightly sink into her chair when she notices.

Once Santana's convinced that she's scared the living shit out of Quinn, she chances a glance over at David, who is looking at her with blatant disapproval, and then at Kevin, who just has a questioning eyebrow raised.

"'Suspended'?" he echoes in slight confusion. "Suspended for what?"

Santana sighs and drops her chin onto her hand. "Fighting," she answers simply before silencing herself with a forkful of potatoes.

David scoffs and shakes his head, seemingly having had his lingering suspicions of the Latina being a bad seed verified, and Kevin's eyes just go wide.

"_Fighting_?"

"Yeah, it was great," Rachel beams, staring at Santana dreamily.

Both Kevin and David turn a complete look of disbelief towards their daughter, who blushes and looks down.

Santana just raises a finger. "For the record, I was defending your daughter's honour."

Rachel looks up again with a smile and a nod. "It's true."

David leans forward in his seat, fixing his glasses as he stares pointedly at Santana, a questioning eyebrow arched. "Defending her from what?"

Santana opens her mouth to respond but fails to produce any sound, still feeling incredibly uncomfortable under David's scrutiny. Quinn notices and clears her throat.

"Some girls slushied Ru―" she catches herself, looking up uncertainly to be met by a stern shake of the head and a threatening fist raised across the table from her. "_Rachel_ on Monday morning... and at lunch they started making homophobic comments, and, well," she slightly shrugs. "Santana stuck up for her."

"And got a black eye in the process," Rachel adds, looking at the Latina adoringly, reaching a hand over to squeeze one of Santana's thighs under the table.

Santana looks over at the shorter brunette with a shy, thankful smile, and David leans back in his chair in slight amazement.

"Not to mention," Quinn starts again, her mouth slightly full, pointing out her fork in emphasis. "She got kicked off of Cheerios for dating your daughter."

As soon as the words are out the blonde's eyes widen and she claps a hand over her mouth, quickly realizing what she's done. 'I'm _so_ sorry,' she mouths between her fingers to Santana, but the Latina is already shooting her an absolute death glare, which is soon followed by a sharp foot that makes solid impact with her shin. She hides the grimace behind her hand.

Rachel slaps Santana's shoulder, wide-eyed. "You did _not_ tell me that you got kicked off! And for _dating_ me?.!" she scoffs in disbelief.

David turns towards Kevin. "'Cheerios'?" he asks curiously.

The larger man just waves a dismissive hand. "Cheerleading," he clarifies absently as he leans forward across the table, looking pointedly at Santana. "You're telling me that you got kicked off of the team for, what, being gay?"

Santana shrugs and looks back down at her plate. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Quinn lightly kicks her leg under the table. 'So you're _gay_ now?' she mouths with a playful expression and a raise of her eyebrows.

Santana just rolls her eyes and shoots the blonde another glare as Kevin huffs in disbelief.

"Oh no, no," he crosses his arms as he leans back into his chair. "That is _not _going to fucking fly."

David slaps the larger man's shoulder, almost reflexively, for the use of the f-word, but glances over at Santana. His expression reads as conflicted, the man seemingly having trouble reconciling the Santana he's heard so much about with the girl in front of him―a girl who seems to have given up a hell of a lot to be with his daughter.

Kevin is unaffected by the slap and just shakes his head. "I think I'll be getting in contact with my friends over at the ACLU, because this is _so_ far from legal that it's not even funny."

Santana's eyes widen and she shakes her head pronouncedly. "No," she says pleadingly, earning a bevy of confused expressions. "_Please_ don't do that."

Everyone at the table is looking at her in shock and she looks down, chewing her lip.

"Santana..." Rachel draws out, raising a hand to place it on the girl's shoulder. "Why on earth wouldn't you want to do this?"

"Yeah, S," Quinn says questioningly. "I mean, as much as it pains me to say it, I'm with Rachel on this one..."

Santana sighs, staring at her plate as she speaks. "If I go through with this―all the legal stuff―and I rejoin the Cheerios, they're gonna lose their private funding... and if they lose that funding, they won't even have a shot at Nationals." She chances a glance up and everyone is still looking at her confusedly. She sighs again. "B _needs_ cheerios. She _needs_ Nationals. It's the only chance she has at getting into a good college."

Kevin and David both look over at Rachel in puzzlement, wondering who this mystery 'B' is; Rachel just squeezes the Latina's shoulder reassuringly, shaking her head at her fathers to let them know it's neither the time nor the place; and Quinn looks over at the Latina with a soft smile and a nod, happy that the girl is looking out for her friend.

There's an uncomfortable silence for a few incredibly long moments before the doorbell rings.

It's David who clears his throat awkwardly before rising from his seat. "Well, I guess I'll go get that..." he trails off with equal awkwardness before disappearing into the hallway.

"Who's 'B'?" Kevin asks simply once the smaller man is gone, causing Santana to sigh.

"My best friend," she answers plainly before taking another bite of food, feeling no need to elaborate at the moment.

The man nods in slight understanding, though there's still a bit of confusion playing across his features. Another silence settles in, for a shorter while this time around, before Quinn inadvertently breaks it.

"No fucking way," she mumbles out in surprise, wide-eyed as she stares down the hallway.

Santana turns around to see what the blonde is looking at, but can only see David walking back towards them.

"Well, it appears we have a visitor," the balding man says simply, adjusting his glasses once more as he re-enters the room, and it's only when he steps aside that Santana's jaw drops and Kevin and Rachel share a confused look.

"Mija!" Maria Lopez remarks as she steps into the room, her arms wide open for a hug and an equally wide smile across her face―a smile that Santana both loves and loathes.

"Mom..." she draws out flatly, not moving an inch, completely flabbergasted. "What are you doing here?"

Rachel's eyebrows fly as she looks over at the girl next to her. "_Mom_?" she echoes, earning a bit of a sheepish smile in return. She alternates her gaze between Santana and Maria a few times before she can completely see it―the older woman's appearance being a pretty good indication of what Santana will probably look like in about twenty years.

"Is that any way to welcome your mother back? Come give me a hug, mija!" she compels, waving her arms out in emphasis.

Santana hesitates again, a part of her wanting to run upstairs and lock herself into the guestroom, but a larger part of her is still elated to see her mom. After a few anxious moments, she reluctantly rises from her chair and takes the few small steps to reach her mother's waiting arms.

They hug, and it's too firm on Maria's end and too loose on Santana's end, and it really just is, in a word, weird.

"That's more like it!" the older woman smiles when she steps out of the embrace. She leaves a hand lingering on Santana's shoulder as she speaks. "Imagine my surprise when I get home and you're not there! I called that _Brittany_ girl"―no one in the room misses the disdain with which the name is said―"and she suggested that I might find you here."

Santana nods and swallows the impossibly large lump in her throat, suddenly wondering if she might have swallowed a bone... then wondering if Tofurkey even _has_ bones.

Kevin can see the tension mounting and quickly stands, walking around the table and extending his hand, "Hi there, Mrs. Lopez. I'm Kevin, Kevin Berry," he smiles.

Maria takes the offered hand. "Hello," she smiles in return. "It's actually _Miss_ Rodriguez, Maria Rodriguez―" she corrects and Santana's eyes widen, having had no idea that her mother had gone back to using her maiden name. "But you can just call me Maria," she smiles as she relinquishes the man's hand. There's a moment of silence before she leans slightly down towards her daughter's ear. "[Why are there two men here?]"

Raised eyebrows happen all around the room at the sudden switch to Spanish, but Santana doesn't miss a beat.

"Kevin and David are Rachel's fathers," she explains simply.

Maria smiles and nods in understanding before slipping into Spanish once more. "[Fathers...]" she draws out warily through the smile. "[Two of them?]"

Santana rolls her eyes. "[Yes, mom, they're gay. Deal with it.] So how was your trip?"

The older woman just waves her off dismissively. "We have plenty of time to talk about the trip when you get home." She grows softer. "[Why are you hanging around people like this? God does not approve of this lifestyle.]"

Santana's brow drops. "[Well, I'll let you know when 'God' shows up.] Mom, this is my friend Rachel," she gestures towards the seated girl.

Rachel hesitantly stands from her chair and extends her hand.

Maria's brow drops briefly as she glares at her daughter, "[Do _not_ mock God,]" but she immediately shifts back to a smile as she looks over at the diva. "Hello there, Rachel, it's very nice to meet you."

Santana watches her mother in a bit of amazement. She had completely forgotten how quickly the woman could switch; how absolutely disgusted she could be with a situation, but she'd act like everything was all sunshine and lollipops; to put it simply, just how completely and utterly _fake_ she could be.

"You, too," Rachel says sheepishly before retreating back to her chair.

"And you know Quinn," Santana gestures an arm to the blonde across the table.

Maria just nods at the girl in acknowledgement, and Quinn returns the gesture though she has an eyebrow raised―her rudimentary knowledge of Spanish giving her a fair idea of what's going on.

David lets out a sigh and rubs his hands together. "Well, now that we're all acquainted, Maria," he earns the older woman's attention. "You're more than welcome to join us for dinner," he offers with a smile, gesturing to the open chair at the foot of the table.

Santana looks down at her socks with wide eyes, knowing just how horrible of an idea _that_ would be―but, thankfully, it seems this time luck _is_ on her side.

"Oh, don't be silly," Maria waves a dismissive hand once more. "I wouldn't want to _intrude_." She says it with a bit of distaste, but it's so subtle that Santana's sure she's the only one who picked up on it. "I just came by to let Santana know that I'm back and that I'll see her when she gets home tonight." She squeezes her daughter's shoulder, shooting a wide smile at everyone in the room before looking down at the girl. "Mija, why don't you walk me to the door," she requests with a firmer squeeze, earning a nod of acquiescence in return. "I very much appreciate the invitation, but I've had a long day of travelling and would just prefer to go home and unpack."

The two men nod their understanding.

"Merry Christmas to you all and God bless!" Maria says cheerily before turning back towards the hallway, practically tugging Santana along.

One they get out into the hall, the woman's voice completely changes in pitch. "[I don't understand why you try to test God by spending all of your time with sinners. If it's not that criminal Jewish boy, it's that Dutch _whore_, and now this?]" She scoffs and shakes her head, using a hand to cross her body as she continues to walk.

Santana can feel some of the familiar rage roiling up, but settles on rolling her eyes and speaking through gritted teeth. "[You just got back, can we _not_ start in on this 'God' and 'sinners' crap right away?]"

Maria just continues shaking her head, muttering to herself in Spanish up until she reaches the door. She pulls on her shoes before turning around with an eyebrow arched. "[Just one question before I go, when did we get a cat?]"

Santana looks down with a bit of a smile, trying to hide it from her mother. "It was a gift."

The older woman's face washes over in complete disgust. "From that _Pierce_ girl..."

Santana looks up with a cutting glare, "No, mom. From Rachel. Rachel is my friend and she gave me a Christmas gift. It's not a big fucking deal."

Maria's eyes widen and she delivers a solid slap to the ex-cheerio's cheek. "[You watch your language, Santana! You are _not_ a trucker!]" she says firmly, pointing a finger out in reprimand.

Santana raises her hand to her cheek, the slap reverberating through her still-tender orbital bone, but she hides the wince and rather rolls her eyes again. "Just go home, mom," she breathes out, angrily but exhaustedly. "I'll see you when I get there."

The woman nods. "[Yes. And we will have to have a _long_ talk when you do,]" she says simply as she opens the door.

Santana groans at the mere thought before her eyebrows rise in remembrance. "Oh! [Just to warn you, Quinn's staying with us right now...]" she trails off, looking up uncertainly.

Maria turns around and nods in understanding, her expression having softened considerably. "[Ok. I'll see you both at home, then,]" she smiles lightly before finally leaving.

Santana seals and locks the door behind the woman, releasing a deep sigh as she drops her forehead to rest on the wood. _I can't fucking believe this_. She starts to wonder if it's even possible that it's a coincidence―her dad calling her just two days ago because he talked to her mom, and her mom coming back today. It's all just too fucking alternate universe for words. She groans in frustration and slightly bangs her head against the door before spinning and pressing her back against it, sliding down to take a seat on the floor, dropping her head into her hands.

The honeymoon period with Maria never lasts very long, and Santana knows exactly how it will play out. The first few days will be all fake smiles and 'how-was-your-day's and tender hugs put on for show. The next few days will turn into nitpicking and nagging and finding everything, _anything_ that Santana's doing wrong. The following days will turn into finding faults in Santana's actual character, in the character of her friends, and harping on them. And the days following those days? Well, then the resentment settles back in; right where it always has been.

For all intents and purposes, and to any outside observer, Maria Lopez is actually a very kind, caring and, _especially_, charming woman... she just happens to be a kind, caring and charming woman who has absolutely no idea how to be a mother. She's probably showed more compassion to Quinn over the years than she has to Santana. In fact, for the majority of Santana's life, she's treated her as more of a houseguest than as her own flesh and blood, and, truth be told, it's just not enough. And it never has been. Not since her father left.

Sometimes Santana thinks that maybe it's just resentment towards her father projected onto her―Santana's own face sharing many of the man's defining features. Sometimes she even thinks that she might have done something _wrong_ to lose or become unworthy of her mother's love. Most of the time, though, she prefers just not to think about it at all, because if there's one thing she's truly grown to understand over the years, it's that she'll never know for sure.

The shitty thing about actually thinking about it, though? It fucking gets to her a lot more than she would ever wish to admit. As she sits, her head cradled in her hands, leaning against the front door of the fucking Berry household, she feels them. She feels tears―fucking pussy-ass, weak-willed tears burning like acid at the back of her eyelids―and they make her nothing but fucking angry. She balls her hands into fists and starts rapping her knuckles softly against her skull. _You don't care, you don't care, you don't care_, she tells herself, trying in vain to fight the salty liquid; but, even as she's replaying the words, she knows it's the biggest line of bullshit she's ever fed herself.

The truth is, Santana Lopez has never been loved―not in the traditional parent-child, unconditional sense―and it's fucked her up good and proper. She knows it, but it doesn't change anything. She's spent so many years believing that she's unlovable, so many years trying to convince herself that she doesn't _need_ to be loved, that she's become completely incapable of even processing the concept. And yet, somehow, it doesn't change the absolutely involuntary and incredibly deep yearning she has for her mom to love her, to approve of her, to tell her she's proud of her. She scoffs and shakes her head at the ridiculousness of the thought. _Man the fuck up, Lopez. That's not her, and that's __**not**__ you_.

Rachel sticks her head out into the hallway, having heard the door close a few minutes ago now and having grown concerned about the younger Latina. Her heart wrenches as she looks at the girl―her defeated posture, her head in her hands, the slight sniffling that... might even be tears?

She pads over softly on the carpet. Santana can hear her coming but she still doesn't look up, rather focusing her energy on sniffing back any emotions that may be threatening to escape. Rachel slides down the door as well, taking a seat right next to the ex-cheerio before placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

"Are you ok?" she inquires softly, carefully.

Santana slightly laughs and shakes her head. "Um, not really," she breathes out, hoping the laughter will cloud the shakiness of her voice.

Rachel sees through the façade but just nods and stays silent, knowing that if the girl needs to talk she'll do so on her own time. Rather, she shifts her hand up from Santana's shoulder to her chin, letting their eyes meet. "I'm here," she says with a reassuring nod before leaning in to press her lips softly against the Latina's. They exchange a few slow, soft, chaste kisses before Santana pulls away, wiping a leaking tear from her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she breathes out softly, shyly, as she looks back down, hating the way her emotions are betraying her right now.

Rachel's face washes over in complete concern. "You have nothing at all to be sorry for," she assures the girl firmly, taking the Latina's hand into her own and raising it up to place a soft kiss on its back.

Santana shakes her head. "You shouldn't have to see me like this," she says earnestly.

Rachel's brow furrows. "What are you talking about? See you like what?" she asks curiously as she lifts her hand to brush some of the girl's hair behind her ear.

Santana chuckles in slight frustration. "Like _this_," she gestures at her red eyes. "Like a complete fucking wimp, cowering on the floor."

Rachel replaces her hand on the girl's cheek, turning the girl to face her once more as she runs her thumb reassuringly along the smooth skin. "Santana, you're allowed to feel things," she says softly, her brown eyes looking deep into Santana's own. "You don't always have to be this tough, emotionless, funny person. You're allowed to break down, too. Please don't ever forget that."

Santana lightly scoffs, but her heart flutters and her eyes water again, though this time she's unsure whether the tears are because of her mother or because of Rachel's words. She's never had anyone care for her so much, never had anyone encourage her to embrace her emotions rather than bury them away, and she finds herself feeling that unfamiliar twinge in her stomach again... the one that's not hunger, the one that's not lust... the one that Santana's still not sure what it is, but she kind of likes it.

She raises her own hand to the diva's cheek, guiding her slowly in so that their lips meet again, feeling a tear run down her cheek, knowing the girl can feel it when it runs down to where their lips are touching. They linger in the embrace, not moving at all, just savouring the intimate contact for a few minutes, before Santana pulls back and drops her head to rest on the diva's own.

"Thank you," she breathes out softly, looking pointedly down into the smaller girl's eyes. "For being here... you know, not _here_ as in here in your home, but in the larger sense," she adds with a bit of a playful smile.

Rachel lightly chuckles. "Of course," she smiles wide, leaning in to peck the Latina's lips once more before moving to stand, extending a hand for the ex-cheerio to take. "We should go back and finish dinner before it gets cold."

Santana looks up a bit uncertainly but nods, taking the diva's hand and pulling herself up. Rachel maintains her hold on the Latina's hand as they head back towards the kitchen, and Santana smiles at the continued contact. Maybe it really is all she needs.

* * *

The rest of dinner passes by uneventfully and is followed by viewings of both 'Holiday Inn' and 'White Christmas' in honour of the day. By the time Santana and Quinn get back to the Lopez household, the time is nearing 11. Quinn heads upstairs to get ready for bed and Santana heads towards the master bedroom to grab the things she's been keeping in her room of late.

The door is open, and Santana can see her mother inside, unpacking things from her suitcase and hanging them up in the closet. She sighs silently, definitely not prepared for any sort of 'long talk' right now, as she raises a hand to knock on the doorframe.

Maria turns around with a bit of a start, raising a hand to her chest. "Mija!" she slightly scolds. "[You scared me.]"

Santana just nods. "I just need to get some of my stuff," she explains lamely as she enters the room, her mother arching a curious eyebrow as she does. "I've been kind of living in here."

Maria nods her understanding. "Ok. [Where's Quinn?]"

"In my room," she answers simply as she heads over to the nightstand.

A silence settles in for a few moments as Santana grabs her things from the drawer of the nightstand, some things from the vanity, and some clothes from the drawer of the dresser that she had claimed as her own, before the older woman clears her throat.

"Santana..." she draws out, Santana immediately knowing that they're about to shift into conversation mode.

She sighs and runs a hand along her face. "Mom, I'm tired. Can we just talk in the morning?" she asks, looking at the woman pleadingly.

Maria's brow furrows, but she just nods. "Ok."

Santana nods in return before heading off to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. When Santana heads back towards the doorway of her room she can see that Quinn has changed into her pjs, but is slinging her fully-packed duffle bag over her shoulder.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Santana asks confusedly as she looks at the girl with an appraising stare.

"Oh," the blonde looks over in a bit of surprise. "Well, I figure since your mom's back you're gonna want your bed back, so I'm heading down to the living room."

Santana's eyes widen and she scoffs lightly. "Don't be a douche, Fabray, I'll take the couch."

Quinn shakes her head. "No way, S. Couch is all mine."

The Latina's brow drops. "You're taking the fucking bed, Tubbers."

Quinn arches a defiant eyebrow. "It's _your_ bed."

"And you're _my_ guest. I'm not gonna make you sleep on the fucking couch," Santana shakes her head.

The blonde rolls her eyes. "Why?" she breathes out with a sigh. "I slept on it all the time when I was younger."

"No... you slept on the pullout when you were younger. As you _may_ have noticed, the couch down there now is completely different... and a complete piece of shit to sleep on. Just ask Puck if you need verification on that one."

Quinn shrugs disinterestedly. "Whatever, at least it's a couch and not the floor."

Santana places her things down on her desk before planting her hands firmly on her hips. "You are _not_ fucking sleeping on the couch!"

The blonde mirrors her posture, her voice rising in staunch defiance. "Well neither are fucking _you_!"

Santana raises a hand to her forehead and groans, realizing they've reached an impasse, before looking over at the girl exhaustedly. "Well... there _is_ one glaringly obvious alternative that we haven't considered yet..."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "I really hope you're not suggesting..." she trails off, raising a hand to gesture it between their bodies.

Santana smirks amusedly. "Oh, for sure, Q. Total sexy times up in here with the mominator next door," she gestures to the wall.

Quinn's brow drops and she points out a serious finger. "No funny business."

Santana just looks over with an unimpressed scoff. "Q, if I really wanted to? I would've tapped that tender ass a _long_ time ago."

The blonde slightly laughs and shakes her head in disbelief, raising a hand to her forehead. "Oh my god, you really _are_ the female Puck. It's just... uncanny."

Santana just shrugs. "What can I say?" she smiles smugly, brushing imaginary dust from her shoulders. "We both have swag."

Quinn rolls her eyes as she places her duffle bag down on the ground. "A.K.A. you're _both_ completely delusional."

Santana just chuckles as she climbs under the covers on her side of the bed, Quinn soon following suit and climbing in on the other side. They stay silent for a few moments, both staring up at the ceiling, before Quinn turns on her side to face the Latina.

"How long was she gone for this time?" she asks softly.

Santana drops her head to the side to look at the blonde. "Seven months... ish."

Quinn nods with a sympathetic smile. "Any idea why she's back?"

The brunette sighs and looks back up at the ceiling. "Probably got dumped by sugar daddy number five thousand."

Quinn sighs, "I'm sorry, S. Shitty situation and all," she elaborates with a slight shrug.

Santana turns to face the girl again with a bit of a sad smile. "Yeah, for both of us."

The blonde laughs lightly before her mouth settles into an equally sad smile. "Thanks for giving me a place to stay, S. You really didn't have to do that... especially after everything that's happened between us." She looks down in a bit of shame.

Santana reaches over and places a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I was serious. I know you'd do the same for me, Tubby."

Quinn rolls her eyes with a bit of a scoff. "You're a bitch, but I kinda love you a little."

Santana shakes her head. "I knew it," she smirks, earning a roll of the eyes but tugging on Quinn's shoulder to pull her into a loose hug. "We're gonna be alright, Q... the both of us."

Quinn nods against her shoulder, "Fuck yeah, we are," before pulling away with a shy smile. Santana just smiles in return before the blonde turns around to turn off the light on the nightstand. "Good night, S."

"Oh!" Santana remarks as if she's just come across some great revelation. Quinn turns back around with a questioning eyebrow raised. She can't fight the slight smirk that creeps across her lips as she speaks. "If you feel something hard press up against you in the middle of the night... well..."

Quinn groans and rolls her eyes. "You never quit, do you?"

The Latina just grins. "I usually _hit it_ before I quit it."

The blonde laughs incredulously. "Can we please just go to sleep? I am _beyond_ fucking exhausted."

Santana shakes her head. "And we didn't even get to fucking," she deadpans.

Quinn just rolls her eyes with a bit of a chuckle and turns away. "Good night, perv."

Santana smiles as she turns to flick off the light, "Night, fatty."

* * *

**Isn't it funny how the holidays always equal drama?**

**Also, writing today while watching/listening to the livestream of Glee Live totally did nothing to distract me from the fact that the cast is in my city and I'm not going to see them :( lol. Total creys.**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Ok so I didn't know that the US doesn't have Boxing Day until **_**after**_** I wrote this... so... deal with it? ;P [For any Americans who may not know, Boxing Day is the day after Christmas and it's the Commonwealth (Can/Brit/Oz/Kiwi) equivalent of Black Friday. It's just a minor thing, but it's probably best to clarify.]**

* * *

Santana wakes with a yawn, cracking her eyes slightly to see her alarm, the time close to 8. She turns around to find a more comfortable position only to be greeted the back of a head of blonde hair a couple feet in front of her. Her eyes snap open and she internally panics for a moment, her tired mind briefly leading her to believe it's Brittany in her bed before she remembers that it's not. _It's just Quinn_. She breathes out a sigh of relief and lets her eyes drift shut once more, her body aching for more sleep.

It's only moments later, though, when her eyes snap _wide_ open and her mouth drops slightly agape as Quinn releases a pleasurable moan. Santana stays still in a bit of shock, suddenly _very_ awake, but the bed doesn't move and neither does Quinn. _So she's not masturbating_... Santana concludes, but it _does_ seem as if the blonde is having an especially satisfying dream.

Quinn moans again and Santana lets out a bit of a stifled laugh before raising a hand over her mouth, looking at the blonde in complete amazement. She just stares and shakes her head slightly for a few long moments before smirking as an absolutely amazing idea pops into her mind. After all, what kind of friend would she be if she _didn't_ fuck with Quinn's head?

She shuffles close along the bed, nearly pushing herself flush against the blonde's back, lifting a hand to run her fingers gently through the girl's hair. Quinn moans again, a little more frantic and breathless this time, and Santana just shakes her head with a smile. _Amazing_.

She blows cool air onto the shell of blonde's ear from behind, letting her fingers tiptoe across the girl's neck, this time earning a bit of a gasp. Santana tries, quite unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh before running her hand gently down Quinn's side, letting it drift between their bodies. She delivers a firm pinch to the blonde's ass as she leans into her ear, "Wake up, lover," she coos with a wide grin and a bit of a snicker.

Quinn pops out of the bed and up to her feet with alarming speed―as well as a surprised squeak―and spins back towards the bed with a tired but incredulous look. "Santana! What the fuck are you doing?.!" she manages, her voice raspy from sleep.

Santana is already laughing and just points out an accusatory finger. "You were having a _sex_ dream!" she teases in a sing-songy voice.

Quinn's face immediately colours a deep red. "I was _not_!" she objects, too loud and too fast, as if the blush didn't already give her away.

Santana just drops her head back onto her pillow, staring up at the ceiling with a hand raised to her now aching abs as she continues to laugh. "Oh my god, you _so_ were!" she struggles out.

The blonde huffs and rolls her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively.

Santana just smiles as she lifts herself up again, propping her head on her hand and raising a playful eyebrow. "So who was it, huh? Pucky? Finny? Someone I don't even know about? Someone famous?" The blonde doesn't react beyond raising a hand to her forehead in complete mortification, and Santana suddenly grows serious. "Oh my god, was it _me_?"

Quinn scoffs a disbelieving laugh and rolls her eyes. "You fucking wish."

Santana really can't resist the opportunity to tease the girl, so she presses on. "Oh my god, was I good?" she asks excitedly, though she quickly furrows her brow at the ridiculousness of her own words and shakes her head. "Of course I was good."

Quinn groans, running a tired hand over her face. "You are fucking horrible."

The Latina waves out a dismissive hand. "I am fucking amazing... _especially_ in bed," she footnotes with a cocky wink.

Quinn just rolls her eyes again, completely over the conversation, before heading to her bag to grab a change of clothes. "I'm gonna go shower," she says simply.

Santana smirks and points out a finger. "Cold water, Q. That's where it's at."

Quinn groans and flips the bird back towards the Latina as she exits the room and Santana drops back down onto the bed in laughter. There's nothing quite as satisfying as embarrassing the living fuck out of a friend.

* * *

It's only about an hour later when it's just Santana and Maria left in the house. Though Santana had initially planned to go Boxing Day shopping with Quinn and Puck, she figures that the best time to get 'the talk' with her mother out of the way is probably while Quinn is out of the house.

And so it is.

Santana sits on the edge of her bed, freshly showered and dressed, nervously wringing her hands together. She really has no further reason to stay hidden away upstairs, but the knowledge that her mother is probably waiting expectantly downstairs for her is surprisingly nerve-wracking. She sighs heavily and runs her hands over her face, wondering why she didn't just go shopping. After all, Boxing Day is almost as sweet as Black Friday.

_Fuck it_. She stands from the bed with a shake of her head and steels her resolve, and though she slightly falters when she reaches the door, she forces herself downstairs.

As soon as she hits the lower level of the house she can smell it―not only coffee, but peppers, onions, eggs, a bit of chorizo... her mom is cooking huevos rancheros, and it's her fucking dietary kryptonite. The scent clouds her senses and sends a warm flood of memories into her mind, almost pleasant enough to allay the feeling of dread that's overshadowing her appetite. Almost.

She enters the kitchen in what can only be described as a foggy haze, the scene in front of her being almost too much: Her mother hovering over the stove, as she did every single Sunday morning of Santana's fucking existence, as if she's never been gone.

Maria knowingly smiles when she notices her daughter approaching. "[Smells good, yes?]"

Santana just nods, seeing no use in lying about it, as she leans onto the counter next to the stove, staring down at the pans as her mom absently stirs the food. It smells like Sunday mornings always used to smell―a hearty meal before church. She involuntarily shudders at those memories, remembering all the hours spent sitting in those uncomfortable as fuck pews, kneeling down and praying to a god she's not even entirely sure exists. Once she was old enough to at least _try_ to weasel her way out of going church, the sole reason she would give in, weekend after weekend, was for the food. It was the only time her mother would ever cook and, really, it was just too good to refuse. An hour of discomfort was a welcome trade-off for the best meal of her week.

As the memory lingers, though, Santana arches an eyebrow, quickly realizing that this is likely her mother's way of trying to earn her compliance with something, that this is _still_ a trade-off, a hearty meal in exchange for... well, what?

_She wants something_. The warmth of the memories quickly flushes out of her body and she remembers that their 'conversation' is still forthcoming. She just shakes the thought from her head and heads over to the coffee maker―which she hasn't used herself in well over a month―to grab a much needed cup.

It's only a few minutes longer before the food is ready, plated, and Maria settles into a seat across the table from her daughter, bringing along plates for them both. The silence in the room is stifling and Santana quickly sets to eating―though it is delicious, and she's certainly not missing that fact, it's functioning more as a method of keeping her mouth shut than anything else.

Maria smiles at Santana's nonverbal appreciation of the food. "[Good?]" she asks simply with the same knowing smile.

Santana slightly smiles in return. "[Yeah,]" she says a bit bashfully between bites. "[Feels like Sunday.]"

The older woman arches an eyebrow. "[It _is_ Sunday,]" she corrects a bit playfully before her gaze slightly narrows. "[Have you been going to church?]"

Santana lightly groans. "No," she grinds out.

"_Santana_..." Maria draws out in that nagging tone that only mothers seem to be able to pull off. Despite her shortcomings in motherhood, she certainly has this part down pat. "[You've been hanging around all these sinners, and God only knows what you've been getting up to while I've been gone. You need to go to church, to go to confession, to pray to God and ask for his forgiveness.]"

The younger Latina rolls her eyes and decides to stick to staunch avoidance of the topic, rather trying to shift the focus away from her to her mother's favourite topic: herself. "So how was your trip? You said you'd tell me all about it." She tries to sound interested, but even to her own ears the words fall flat.

Her mother smiles softly, but Santana can't tell whether it's sadly or bashfully. "[I met someone.]"

_Obviously_, Santana lightly rolls her eyes, keeping her head down towards her plate to make it less obvious she's doing so. "Yeah?" she says with mock-interest, slightly more successful in her attempt this time around.

Maria nods. "[Things were going quite well over the past while...]"

Santana huffs silently, but covers it up with a sip of coffee and another mouthful of food. She knows from far too much experience that this is heading the same direction as any other variation of the same conversation―either random dude or she cheated and that was the final straw, or he got sick of footing the bill for her all the time, or she found him to be too controlling, or any other of the multitude of reasons that all her previous 'relationships' had ended. _Going well, but..._

"[And then―]" the woman continues softly. _Here it comes_, Santana thinks. "[He asked me to marry him.]"

Santana's eyes absolutely bulge and her mouth drops open, a bit of food falling right out and back onto her plate. She swallows the remaining food in her mouth thickly. "_What_?.?"

Maria smiles wide and shakes her head in a bit of disbelief. "Mija, I'm getting _married_!" she remarks excitedly.

Santana's brow furrows and she shakes her head slightly, half sure this is a nightmare she just hasn't managed to wake up from yet. "_Married_..." she repeats, suddenly wondering when her vocabulary became limited to single words.

Maria just nods. "[That's why I'm back.]"

Now Santana is completely confused. She just raises an eyebrow and stares at her mother expectantly, waiting for her to continue.

"[I'm selling the house.]"

Her brow furrows impossibly further, "_What_?.?"

"[We're moving to California!]" Maria says elatedly.

The words linger in the air for a long while, Santana feeling positively overwhelmed by the influx of new information―new information about a future she has literally no control over. She shakes her head, just trying to make sense of everything that's happening, but it doesn't happen. None of it makes _any_ sense. She says the only thing she can think to ask in all the confusion. "[When?]"

"[We already have potential buyers lined up, so we'll make the move down once you're finished your exams.]"

Santana's eyes nearly pop out of her head and she can feel her anger starting to well up. "[You mean _this_ semester's exams?]" The woman nods, and Santana's heart completely drops. "[But that's, like, a month from now! You didn't think to, you know, _call_ and let me know all of this was happening?]"

Maria shakes her head. "Mija," she says with a bit of a warning tone. "[Don't be such a child.]"

Santana stands from her chair and leans over the table, her arms out at her sides, completely incredulous. "[A child?.! What about school? What about my friends?]" She shakes her head, too frustrated to speak in Spanish anymore. "Just because _you_ have nothing to lose, doesn't mean that I don't either!"

The older woman rolls her eyes. "[You're being completely selfish. The money is in California, and we're in the situation that we need to go where the money is.]"

"_Selfish_?" she laughs out in a bit of disbelief, the statement being the epitome of the pot calling the kettle black. "Can't you just find some fucking sugar daddy here..." she mumbles out in frustration.

Maria catches it, though, and she stands from her chair wide-eyed, leaning across the table to deliver a solid slap across her daughter's cheek. "[I really don't know when you became so disrespectful, Santana, but it stops _right now_.]"

It hurts―the reverberation from the slap rattling her sensitive eye, the sting of the redness she knows is quickly materializing on her cheek―but at the moment Santana's anger is outweighing the pain. She plants her hands firmly on her hips, staring coolly into her mother's eyes. "I am _not_ moving to California."

Maria sighs, and it's a sigh that Santana is oh so familiar with: disappointment. The woman looks away as she drops back into her chair, and Santana can tell she's slightly hurt―and, despite herself, she feels guilty about it.

"[I did consider the fact that you might not want to move cross-country at this point in your life, so there _is_ another option...]"

Santana arches an eyebrow.

"[I've been talking to your father, and he agreed that―if you so choose―you can move to Cleveland to live with him.]" She says it simply, emotionlessly, as if there's absolutely no weight or meaning behind the suggestion.

Santana's eyes widen once more. "No way! You want me to go live with papá? I don't even friggin' _know_ the guy!" she near-yells, fully aware of the fact that she's quickly losing her composure, but also not giving a single, solitary fuck about it.

"[He's your _father_, Santana,]" the woman offers weakly in return.

She huffs in disbelief. "Not for the past five years!"

Maria just sighs exhaustedly. "Well, it's your decision to make. If you want to stay in Ohio, you go live with papá. If not, then you come with me to California." Her expression brightens before she presses on. "Oh mija, you'd love it there! It's so beautiful! Always sunny, none of this snow business, and―_oh_―the ocean! The ocean is gorgeous and there are so many beaches! It's just perfect and I know you would love it."

Santana knows her mom's trying. She's trying really fucking hard to make it sound appealing because she _wants_ Santana to go with her. It makes Santana feel a lightness in her heart, but simultaneously makes her frown. The double-edged sword here is that Santana knows _why_ she wants her to go California, and it's because she'll function as a great bargaining chip, a great sympathy card: Single mother with a troubled teenage daughter. Is there anything more tragic? Anything worth rescuing more? Santana doesn't even need to meet the man in question to know that there's a bright shining hero complex somewhere in the mix.

She just shakes her head, all of this being a bit too much. "So that's it, then," she breathes out softly, defeatedly, her hands holding less firm on her hips now.

"[What?]" Maria asks curiously.

"I'm just supposed to walk away from everything―from Lima, from everything I've got here, from the past 16 years of my life?"

"[You're a friendly girl, you'll make new friends. Sometimes it's nice to start fresh. Maybe you'll even get closer to God.]"

Santana groans. _What the fuck does 'god' even have to do with this?_

"[Besides, I think it's better that you get away from these... _people_ you've been spending your time with.]"

Santana's eyes widen and a flash of red runs through her consciousness. "And what exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Santana," Maria starts with a pointed stare. "[You're breaking God's laws here. I think it's about time that you re-evaluate your life and make some changes, and moving away might be the best way to do that... the best way to start down the right path―the one God intended you to follow.]"

"Are you fucking kidding me?.?" the younger girl breathes out incredulously, unable to censor herself at this point. "You fucking fly around the country whoring yourself out to anyone with a fucking bankroll and you're calling _me_ out for breaking 'God's laws'?.?"

Maria stands again, raising a threatening hand that causes Santana to visibly recoil, taking a full step back and away from the table. "Mija, you watch your mouth. I'm trying to do what's best for our family!"

"_Family_?" Santana laughs out. "Don't even get me started on that bullshit."

"You watch your fucking language, Santana! [If you can't control yourself, I think it's best you go somewhere and cool off before you say something you regret.]"

That's all the encouragement Santana needs. She doesn't say anything else, doesn't stop, doesn't think twice. She heads straight for the front door, haphazardly tugging the first jacket she happens to blindly grab at, ripping it off of the hanger as she abruptly exits the house. It doesn't matter that her car is completely covered in the fresh coat of snow that has fallen over the city, she just unlocks it with the fob and grabs the snowy handle, tugging the door open angrily. She climbs into the car and throws the jacket onto the passenger side seat, her hands gripping around the steering wheel with painful force, her head immediately dropping onto the backs of her hands. Perhaps the single advantage to the snow is that if her mom were to look out the window, she wouldn't be able to see her.

The tears start, and it's the second time in two days, and it feels anything but right. She rocks back and forth in her seat, willing her emotions to just shut the fuck up, but getting nowhere. Her thoughts are simple, focused on one thing: _Why now? _It's probably the worst timing ever. Go back a year or two and Santana was fucking _pining_ to get out of Lima, and she still wants to get the fuck out when she's done high school... but _now_? For the first time in her life, Santana feels settled; she feels _happy_ where she is. And the woman she loves to hate (or hates to love, depending on the day) has come back to rip that happiness away from her again.

She's not sure how long she sits in the car, wallowing in her own misery, before she grabs the snow brush and climbs out to clean off the car. A long drive could be just the thing she needs to get this all out of her system.

* * *

She drives for close to an hour, the fuel light starting to flicker insistently on the dash, before she realizes that it's doing nothing for her. She sighs in frustration as she makes the decision to head to the one place where she feels safe.

She pulls into the driveway, parking in her usual spot, and climbs out of the car before stalking up to the door, her blood still running hot. She knocks and impatiently waits for an answer as she continues to grumble to herself in some mangled combination of Spanish and English.

The door swings open to reveal a smiling man. "Hey kid―" is all Kevin gets out before Santana pushes right past him and into the house, basically pulling a reverse Rachel Berry storm-out, the volume of her grumbling increasing as she stomps off towards the living room. Kevin watches her go in confusion but quickly closes the door and follows.

Rachel is seated on the couch and arches a confused eyebrow at the Latina's sudden appearance. Her face washes over in concern when she notices how red the girl's face is. "Santana, what's wrong?.?" she asks worriedly as she pauses the movie on the tv.

Santana suddenly switches full-on into English as she takes to pacing around the room. "She's such a fucking bitch! She just doesn't give a fuck about anyone but her fucking self! She just thinks she can fucking show up and turn my fucking life right the fuck upside down and that it doesn't fucking matter as long as _she's_ happy and it's just so fucking unfair and it's motherfuck―" she stops mid-run-on sentence, looking over to Kevin with wide eyes. "Where's David?"

Kevin just waves her off as he settles back into his armchair. "He got called into work, F-bomb away," he offers with a gentle smile.

Santana groans lightly, running her hands over her face, seemingly done with her incoherent rant, as she drops exhaustedly onto the couch next to her girlfriend.

"Santana," Rachel tries again, shuffling closer along the cushions, reaching a hand up to brush some hair behind the Latina's ear. "What happened?"

She sighs heavily, trying to focus in on her thoughts before she speaks. She recounts the events of the morning for both Rachel and Kevin, feeling the familiar burning of the last two days threatening her eyes as she does, but she manages to bite back the release of actual tears, much to her own delight.

When she finishes, Rachel's eyes are wide, but she speaks with surprising calmness, perhaps falsely pacified by her absolute shock. "So... what are you going to do?"

Santana huffs a frustrated laugh, feeling quite literally caught between a rock and a hard place. "What _can_ I do? Either I move to the fucking Cleve or I go to Cali. End of story."

Rachel's heart breaks at the girl's words―and not just from her own self-interest in the matter. Santana just sounds so helpless, so defeated, and Rachel honestly doesn't know a single thing she could say to make it better.

"I'm leaving Lima," Santana breathes out softly, the words feeling foreign on her lips and leaving a horrible taste in her mouth. She looks up, meeting Rachel's deep brown eyes with her own red, sad eyes. For all the dreams she's had of getting out of this shithole town, none of them involved leaving now―when she's finally found something in Lima worth sticking around for. She chances a glance over at Kevin, who's nodding in thought and has been doing so for the majority of Santana's storytelling.

When he looks up and their eyes meet, he suddenly clears his throat. "You said your parents are divorced, right?" he questions softly with an eyebrow raised. Santana just nods. "What's the custody situation like?"

Santana's brow furrows, wondering what any of this has anything to do with her current predicament, but she answers nonetheless. "My mom has sole custody."

Kevin nods again. "Ok, well from what I've gathered and what you've told me about the situation... if you want to stay in Lima... as far as I can see you have two options."

Santana's eyes grow wide and hopeful, not having realized she'd have _any_ options beyond begrudgingly going with one of her parents. (The question of which one would really be a toss-up.)

The man lifts a hand to scratch his scalp in continued thought. "Neither of them are particularly desirable, but..." he trails off, but when he sees the look of pure hope in both the girls' eyes he sighs, though he speaks pointedly at Santana. "Ok, well, option number one is that you file to become an emancipated minor."

The Latina's brow furrows. "What does that mean?"

"It means your mother would have to agree to essentially disown you and that you would become your own legal guardian..." Santana's eyes widen somewhat excitedly at the thought, that is, up until Kevin continues. "_But_, you would have to prove that you can be financially self-sufficient; that you can shelter, feed and clothe yourself without assistance. And, again, even if you can prove that much, there's the question of relinquishing parental rights. If your mom doesn't go for it... well, generally speaking, unless there's abuse or extreme neglect involved, it's kind of a dead end road."

Santana's hopeful expression slightly fades as she releases a sigh, knowing that the option just isn't viable. "Ok... so what's option number two?" she asks curiously.

Kevin stares at her for a prolonged moment before taking to chewing his lip and furrowing his brow, wondering if he should even bring it up. "Well, the other option is that you find someone who'd be willing to adopt you; to take on legal guardianship of you until you turn eighteen. Even in this case, you'd still need your mom's permission unless you can show just cause as to why you should be removed from your household."

Santana sighs exhaustedly, staring to feel like this was all just a waste of time and misguided optimism. "Does absenteeism help?"

He furrows his brow again. "It _could_ help your case, but unless your mom agrees to relinquish legal rights... well, I don't know how good your odds are of getting it granted in the courts."

Santana nods again but chuckles in disappointment. "Thanks, but I don't think I know anyone who'd want to adopt me, anyway," she mumbles sadly, staring down at her lap.

Rachel looks over despondently, the tears that have been building up in her eyes this entire time starting to spring free. "I don't want you to go," she says miserably, her voice uneven with emotion, a tear streaking down her cheek as she runs her fingers through the Latina's hair.

At the diva's tone of voice, Santana starts to feel like she might cry as well, the feeling only intensifying when she glances over into the girl's leaking, watery eyes. "I don't wanna go either, obviously," she laughs out, trying to bite back the emotion behind the words, using the pad of her thumb to wipe the diva's tear.

Kevin's heart wrenches as he watches the interaction between the two girls. He looks down in thought, wondering if he should say anything given the uncertainty of it all, but when he looks back up to see the sadness in both of their eyes, he can't bite his tongue. "I can talk to David."

Both Santana and Rachel look over in absolute confusion, and Kevin sighs again, still tentative as he speaks.

"I can pitch it as an idea..." he hesitates, realizing how much shit he could get into with his husband if things don't plan out the way he's hoping. "The idea that David and I could legally adopt you," he clarifies.

Santana's eyes widen in absolute amazement, her face awash in happiness, before her brow drops and she looks over at Rachel for a pensive moment. She furrows her brow as she looks back at the man across the room. "Uhh, not to be a buzzkill or whatever, but... wouldn't that make us―" she gestures a hand between herself and Rachel, "_sisters_?"

The diva's eyes widen at the thought and she looks over at her father with the same questioning expression.

Kevin just chuckles lightly and shakes his head in amusement. "No, no, not at all. David and I wouldn't be your 'fathers', per se; we'd just be your legal guardians. Essentially, Rachel would just be your housemate."

"My 'housemate'," Santana repeats softly, as if testing it out, before turning to the diva with a small smile.

Rachel returns the smile. "My housemate," she says simply before leaning in to brush their lips together.

"Hey," Kevin chides, pointing out a playful finger. "There will still be no house_mating_ allowed under this roof."

_Maybe the backyard, then_... Santana muses with a bit of a smirk before the weight of the entire conversation that has just taken place settles into her mind and her face drops once more. She looks over to Kevin with a furrowed brow. "I don't think I can accept the offer."

Rachel's eyes go wide and Kevin arches an eyebrow.

Santana sighs. "I can't ask you two to take me in like that. I mean, that's two years of food, clothes, shelter... _everything_."

Kevin shrugs. "If you're worried about the money, don't be. We make more than enough to get by."

Santana shakes her head resolutely. "It's too much."

Kevin shakes his head in return. "It's really not. And if you're so concerned about it, then you can get your lazy ass a part-time job," he adds playfully. When Santana's expression doesn't shift, though, he grows serious again. "Nothing's for sure yet, anyway. I still need to talk to David and you still need your mom's permission,"―Santana groans and runs a hand over her face, _As if that'll ever happen_―"then there would still be paperwork and the whole nine." He doesn't miss the Latina's groan and he just sighs. "This is it, kiddo. This is _the_ option, the _only_ option, if you want to stay in Lima."

Santana looks over to Rachel, who is looking at her pleadingly with those gigantic doe eyes, eyes that just happen to be watering like she was a fucking cartoon character, and Santana immediately knows that she can't say no. "Ok," she breathes out softly with a nod, keeping her eyes locked onto Rachel's.

Rachel's eyes light up, a wide smile splitting across her face, and she nearly tackles the Latina down onto the couch with a hug and a kiss that is nowhere near chaste enough to share in front of Kevin.

The man just laughs at the scene, but Santana pushes Rachel slightly up by her shoulders. "We really need to have a talk about what's appropriate to share with your dads and what isn't... because _this_? Really isn't," she smirks lightly, earning nothing but a slap on the shoulder and another soft kiss.

"So," Kevin interrupts the moment, his eyes averted to the wall as he rubs his hands together thoughtfully. "Anyone up for lunch?"

* * *

Santana spends a good portion of the afternoon at the Berry household having lunch, begrudgingly watching a few musicals with Rachel―though 'Victor Victoria' was one that Santana actually _liked_―before her phone vibrates in her pocket. Rachel, who is resting on her lap, shifts up to a sitting position so that she can retrieve the handset.

'Your car's not in the driveway...' the text from Quinn reads, causing Santana's eyes to widen.

"Shit," she breathes out audibly before tapping out a response.

'Oh shit, sorry Q, I'm at Rachel's...'

Rachel is looking at her curiously. "What's up?"

She sighs. "I kind of forgot about Quinn."

The diva arches an eyebrow. "Do you think you want to go back home?"

Santana chews a lip between her teeth in thought but she's interrupted by her phone.

'Well wtf?'

She lightly chuckles. 'Long story' she taps out simply.

When she looks over, Rachel is still looking at her expectantly and she sighs again. "I don't know, I mean, I guess I should."

Her phone vibrates again. 'I'm not going in the house while you're not here... Your mom kind of freaks me out.'

Rachel shakes her head slightly. "If you don't want to go home, it would be entirely possible for you and Quinn to just stay here for a couple days or however long you need," she offers in earnest, her expression so earnest that Santana almost wants to say yes despite how ridiculous of an idea it is.

"I don't know," she says simply. "I'm not sure Q would be too cool with that idea."

Rachel's brow drops, "Just ask her."

Santana rolls her eyes, knowing what the answer's going to be before she even types out the message, but types it out nonetheless. 'Do you wanna come here then? Get Puck to drop you off?'

It's mere seconds before the response comes in. 'Are you kidding me?'

She was expecting it but it still makes her sigh. 'I guess so. I'll be home in 15.'

'Good. I'll be waiting.'

She groans lightly as she turns her attention back to the girl next to her, who is, as per usual, looking at her with a cheery smile. "I have to go," she says solemnly.

Rachel's smile drops but she nods in understanding, "Ok."

Santana closes the small gap between them to brush her lips against the diva's―using all her resolve not to deepen it, lest she leave Quinn waiting for _days_―before rising to her feet. She heads to Kevin's office to let the man know she's leaving before proceeding to the front doorway to grab her jacket―a completely oversized one that she thinks may actually be Puck's―with both Berries following along to see her off.

It's only when Santana opens the door that she sees that, once again, Mother Nature has had its way with Lima, her car covered in another healthy coat of snow. She sighs and pulls the jacket tighter around herself as she steps out into the cold, only to be stopped by Kevin's large hand on her shoulder.

"Hold up a sec, kiddo. Let me throw on a jacket and some boots and I'll help you out," he offers with a smile, earning a nod of thanks in return.

Kevin grabs the snowbrush from the SUV and Santana uses her own as they make quick work of clearing off the car. Santana's just using the de-icer on the windshield when Kevin breaks the bit of amicable silence that had settled in.

"So... I get the impression your mom doesn't know about you and Rachel," he says absently as he works on clearing the driver's side mirror.

Santana's eyes widen, but she keeps her stare fixed on the glass as she tries to scrape the stubborn ice. "What do you mean?" she inquires, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Kevin looks pointedly at her with a bit of a lopsided smile and a slight shake of his head. "[Believe it or not, a working knowledge of Spanish is actually considered an asset in my field.]"

Santana's muscles lock and she looks over at the man, completely dumbstruck, her eyes having widened impossibly further. "Oh..."

He smiles softly, "Yeah. So, she's not too sold on the gay thing, huh?"

Santana turns her attention back to the windshield. "Not as such, no."

Kevin nods. "Shitty."

Santana just nods in return, "Yeah."

"She gonna make a stink about you two when she finds out?"

It's asked simply, detachedly, but it makes Santana fumble the brush between her hands. "Uh... I'm thinking what she doesn't know won't hurt her..."

Kevin stops what he's doing and looks over with his brow furrowed. "So, just keep it a secret and all the trouble goes away?"

Santana lightly shrugs, though she doesn't dare make eye contact. "More keep it a secret and there's no trouble to begin with."

Kevin shakes his head, not sold on the idea, but he doesn't speak either, not feeling it to be his place to tell the girl how to deal with her mother. He sighs. "I guess that's one way of going about it."

Santana doesn't miss the disappointment in his voice, something she's so trained to suss out, but she doesn't do anything about it either. She just hugs the man goodbye, offering her thanks for the help, before taking off, a large part of her wondering who else she can manage to disappoint today.

* * *

**It's possible that there's going to be a two week gap between this chapter and the next one (not for certain, just preparing you for the possibility). I'm going away for a few days this coming week and, in addition, I need to seriously figure out the pacing of some of the stuff I've got planned for this story.**

**[I also may or may not have overwhelming Quinntana feelings right now that I'm probably going to need to fic out in the near future... heh :s]**

**I hope you liked the chapter and I hope you stick around for the wait! :3**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: I am so, **_**so**_** sorry for the extended wait. So much has happened while we've been gone: New York State legalized gay marriage, Canada had a birthday, the US had a birthday, the Oxford comma was brutally executed... _insanity_! Anyway, this is kind of a half chapter, a bit of build up for what's to come. I have a good portion of the next segment written, though, so hopefully I can get that up by the end of the week to make up for keeping you waiting so long ;)**

**I hope you enjoy and thanks for sticking around!**

* * *

The next four days pass by without any real progress in regards to anything. Maria barely spends any time at home, and any time she _is_ home, Santana stays pretty much glued to Quinn so that she isn't left alone for any awkward conversations with the woman―a woman she doesn't even want to _think_ about let alone talk to. Rachel has been M.I.A. most of the week, her fathers having registered her for a Christmas vocal training workshop that occupies her days and pre-exam tutoring sessions that occupy her nights.

By the time Friday rolls around, Santana is practically bouncing around the house in complete elation. For one, it's motherfucking New Year's Eve and Puck's party is tonight and shit is going to get insane; and for two, she finally gets to see Rachel for an extended period of time... not to mention the fact that the diva has _permission_ from her fathers―yes, David, too―to stay the night. Perhaps the singular benefit of Maria being back is the fact that Kevin and David seem to be ok with Rachel staying over so long as there's a parent around (even if she's not much of a parent.)

Santana's body practically tingles in anticipation.

The plan, as it stands, is for Rachel to come over to the Lopez house once her workshop is done to get ready for the epic night ahead. Quinn has agreed to take the couch for the night, not willing to risk staying over at Puck's house because, well, drunk!Puck is normal Puck turned up to level eleven―a.k.a. a little too handsy for Quinn's speed right now.

It's just after 5pm and Santana is practically skipping around her room, humming some song that only she seems to know the tune to and digging through her closet for things she might wear tonight. Quinn watches from the bed in slight horror, finding the uncharacteristic happiness a little off-putting to say the least. Santana's phone vibrates on the nightstand and she bounces over wearing a wide smile, one that only drops slightly when she reads the new text.

'Hey! So my dads have insisted that I should go home for dinner, which I personally think is completely unnecessary, but it looks like I won't be able to make it to your house until closer to 7-8. Sorry :'( I miss you and I can't wait to see you, xoxo'

She sighs lightly and Quinn quickly grows curious.

"What is it?"

Santana just places the phone back down on the nightstand before looking over with an unwavering smile. "Rachel's skipping out on dinner. She probably won't get here until around 8." (If there's one thing Santana knows, it's that the girl's gonna be fashionably late.)

Quinn finds herself completely confused, taken aback by the fact that Santana's still so chipper. "And you're... _happy _about this?" she questions, a large part of her wondering what kind of drugs the dark haired girl is on and why she isn't sharing.

Santana just shakes her head as she skips back over to the closet. "Well, _no_... but I _am_ still fucking pumped for tonight."

Quinn is still watching with a wary eyebrow, and she can't bite back the urge to say something. "I really don't understand why you're so excited... it's just new year's," she adds with a slight shrug.

Santana turns around with a start. "_Just_ new year's?" she echoes, incredulous at the blonde's passivity about it all. "Do you know what new year's means? It means the fucking cosmic joke that was 2010 is finally over. Fuck the crying and fuck the bullshit. Fuck your dad, fuck my mom, fuck California, fuck Cleveland, fuck Sue Sylvester and the Cheerios, fuck Vocal Adrenaline and losing Regionals... fuck _everything_!" she smiles.

"That's a lot of fucking," Quinn observes with a smirk.

Santana rolls her eyes, unaffected. "2011 is gonna be the year for us, Q. I can feel it already. We're friends again, we're both dating... things are finally looking up," she clarifies with a soft smile.

Quinn has an amused eyebrow raised at the brunette's enthusiasm―unsure of who exactly it is she's trying to convince right now and wondering if the girl is suffering from a sudden bout of amnesia―but she lets a matching smile spread across her features. Though she's not entirely buying what Santana's selling, she doesn't want to kill her buzz, and so she nods. "Fuck yeah they are," she cedes.

Santana smiles wide before releasing a bit of a sigh and rubbing her hands together thoughtfully. "So... now that Rachel's not a factor, what should we have for dinner?"

"Pizza," Quinn says immediately and without elaboration.

Santana's smile spreads impossibly further. "I knew there was a reason we're friends."

Quinn arches a playful eyebrow. "You mean besides the fact that you're completely head over heels in love with me?"

Santana scoffs and rolls her eyes, though there's still a smile on her face. "You really are starting to push your luck, fatty."

"_Please_," Quinn scoffs. "I'm sleeping on the fucking couch for you. Give me some fucking credit here."

Santana arches an eyebrow. "Really, Q? Just a few days ago you were _begging_ to sleep on the couch and now that I'm letting you, you're doing me some great favour? Seems more like _I'm_ the one doing _you_ a favour," she laughs out.

Quinn grumbles and rolls her eyes. "So how does it feel to be the world's biggest bitch?"

Santana grins. "I wouldn't know, you won't relinquish the crown," she winks. Quinn groans lightly and Santana smirks. "And just for that, we're not getting bacon."

Quinn groans loudly in frustration and collapses back onto the bed in defeat, and Santana just laughs. Truth is she thinks bacon on pizza is fucking disgusting, anyway.

* * *

As expected, it's just before 8pm when the doorbell rings and a freshly fed Santana rushes down the stairs to get the door. She arrives a bit too late, though, and can see Maria opening the door.

"Oh, it's _you_..." the woman greets coolly. "_Rachel_, right?" she ventures, her unmitigated dislike plainly evident.

Rachel shifts on her heels, clearly nervous. "Um, yes, hello Miss Rodriguez... um, is Santana home?" she struggles out, her voice nearly at a squeak.

It's at this point that Santana reaches the door, tugging back on Maria's shoulder. "I got it, mom," she says simply.

Maria glances between the pair disapprovingly before scoffing and raising her hands up in submission, grumbling to herself in Spanish as she turns to head back to the living room.

Santana rolls her eyes at the retreating woman before turning her attention to Rachel, who is smiling that soft, nearly angelic smile that makes her heart flutter. She really wants nothing more than to jump Rachel's bones right now, but she's not willing to risk it with her mother in the next room. Hell, she's not even willing to risk taking the girl's hand right now. Instead, she steps back, finally letting her enter, taking her jacket and hanging it in the closet before waving her to follow upstairs.

It's only once they reach the upstairs landing that Santana takes the diva's slight hand into her own, tugging her to the small alcove between her room and the bathroom and pushing her lightly back against the wall. Rachel's bag creates a hollow thud as it makes impact with the wall, but Santana's so focused on the diva's eyes that she either ignores or fails to register the sound altogether.

"Hi," she breathes out softly, her hands resting on the shorter girl's hips.

Rachel is already flush, and it brings an attractive tint to her cheeks. "Hi," she lets out in return, biting her lower lip and letting it run through her teeth, feeling almost nervously excited under the ex-cheerio's stare.

Santana's eyes darken at the minute action and she leans in, letting her lips brush softly across the diva's for a moment... but it's the only preamble before the kiss deepens and grows alarmingly urgent. Santana runs her hands along Rachel's waistband and down to her ass as Rachel hooks her arms possessively around Santana's neck, pulling the taller girl's body flush against her own. Santana palms at Rachel's backside, earning pleased moans in response and spurring Rachel to tangle a hand in her hair. Santana starts lightly grinding against the shorter girl, and her breathing starts to quicken. They literally kiss until Santana's lungs are burning for better oxygen intake. (She's noticed it before, but_ seriously_, Rachel's years of vocal training have truly given her superhuman lung capacity.)

Santana grudgingly pulls away, sliding her hands back to the girl's hips, stilling her pelvis and dropping her forehead to rest against the diva's, truly unsure she can stand upright on her own at the moment. "You would _not_... fucking _believe_... how much I missed you," she struggles out, her breathing shallow and uneven. "Like, you don't even know." She shakes her head lightly, if for no other reason than to shake the urge to take Rachel right now up against the wall with Quinn in her room just a few feet away.

Rachel's eyes slowly slide open and she looks up to see impossibly dark eyes that match her own. "I do," she breathes out, having an issue catching her own breath. "I've missed you just as much if not even more."

Santana's heart flutters again and, rather than let her words fail her, she shifts a hand up to rest on the diva's cheek before leaning in to unite their lips once more. They exchange kisses for a long while, though these kisses are slower, softer and, above all else, more _intimate_ than those shared just moments prior.

Fact is, Santana would just like to do this forever. When she's kissing Rachel, the rest of the world seems to fall away. Her mother, her father, the idea of having to move away, getting kicked off of the Cheerios, the betraying sadness, the overwhelming anger... none of it matters because none of it exists. The only beings in existence are her and Rachel. The only thing that matters is the press of Rachel's tongue against her own, the taste of Rachel's cinnamon lip gloss, the feel of Rachel's arms wrapped around her, the pounding of her own heart―which she can feel from her ears to her fingertips to her toes. It's all that exists, and it's all that Santana needs to exist.

When she finally pulls away, she does so with great reluctance and a heavy sigh. "I guess we should start getting ready..." After all, they've only about an hour before they're supposed to be at Puck's.

Rachel's eyes open once more and she nods wordlessly, albeit with a slight pout. Santana licks her lips unconsciously as she stares down at the diva's protruding, slightly parted lips―red and swollen from their kissing―and she finds herself having to clamp her jaw shut to keep from leaning in again and losing the rest of the night.

Instead, she runs her fingertips along the diva's forearm, smiling softly at the goosebumps that rise in response, before drifting down to take the girl's small hand into her own. She twines their fingers before squeezing gently and gesturing her head towards her bedroom.

Rachel nods with a smile and they finally make their way towards Santana's bedroom, to which the door is, curiously, closed. _I swear I left that open..._ Santana muses as she turns the doorknob, stepping into the room with Rachel right behind.

Quinn is sitting on the bed watching tv, but turns her attention towards the new arrivals with an arched eyebrow. "Done fucking in the hallway now?"

Rachel looks down with a blush and Santana arches a challenging eyebrow.

"What the fuck are you on about, fatty?" she counters, relinquishing the diva's hand to plant her hands firmly on her hips.

Quinn's look morphs into a bit of an unimpressed stare, perhaps even bordering on a scowl. "I'm 'on' about you two fucking moaning like dogs in heat in the hallway with the door wide open. You didn't even notice when I closed it so I wouldn't have to _listen_ to you going at it!" she adds as a final, definitive point.

Rachel blushes further, and Santana can feel a bit of a flush spread across her cheeks as well, now understanding the mystery of the closed door. She shakes the blush off, though, before she walks over towards the bed to grab the tv remote.

"Whatever, tubs, not like I haven't been subjected to _you_ getting down and dirty before," she argues weakly, changing the tv to a radio channel.

Quinn arches a defiant eyebrow. "I don't exactly think we're even in _that_ department... unless you've forgotten about the past ten years and your 'situation' with B."

Santana can feel a deep red spread from her throat to her cheeks this time, and she looks away in a bit of embarrassment.

"Oh!" Rachel voices in sudden realization, effectively cutting through the somewhat tense silence that has settled into the room, flailing her hands out slightly before leaning down and reaching into her bag.

Santana smiles in silent thanks, the diva's little cognitive outburst being a welcome distraction from the current line of conversation.

When Rachel stands back upright, she's holding a bottle. "My dads gave us a bottle of champagne..." she pauses, raising the bottle to eye level to read over it. "Or sparkling white wine, I'm not sure which one... _or_ what the difference is, for that matter. Well, _regardless_," she looks back up with bright eyes and presents the bottle. "They thought it would be fitting to celebrate the occasion."

Santana's eyes widen. "Thank the fucking lord," she says excitedly as she takes the bottle from Rachel's hands, immediately tearing at the foil on the cap. "My mom's been so fucking hypervigilant about not having alcohol in the house that I'm _dying_," she explains, quickly discarding the foil before starting to untwist the wire cage.

"Holy alcoholic," Quinn teases with a slight laugh from her position on the bed, earning nothing but a roll of the eyes from Santana.

"Whatever, Q," she looks over with a dropped brow. "You can't even tell me that with all the bullshit going on around here you haven't been dying for a drink."

Quinn just sighs and waves a dismissive hand because, if she's honest, it's true.

"I think my dads actually meant for us to drink that at midnight..." Rachel voices with uncharacteristic shyness, pointing a finger out towards the bottle.

Santana looks up with a soft smile, pausing before setting to work on the cork. "Look, if we take this to the party, we're gonna have to share. If your dads really meant for _us_ to have this," she points between the three of them. "Then we should probably drink it now."

Rachel just nods in understanding. "Ok."

Santana nods in return before settling her tongue between her teeth as she starts struggling a little bit―a little bit more than she'd like to admit―with the cork. "Holy fuck, this is tight."

"That's what she said," Quinn smirks.

Santana rolls her eyes and looks pointedly at the girl. "Fatty, why don't you make yourself fucking useful for once instead of just being annoying?" she waves out a hand. The blonde arches an eyebrow, and Santana lightly rolls her eyes again. "Go downstairs and get us some glasses or something," she shrugs.

Quinn scoffs lightly. "Fuck. That."

Santana groans before turning her attention back to the bottle between her hands, but she really does know how uncomfortable the blonde is around Maria―almost as uncomfortable as _she_ is.

It takes a couple more twists and tugs, as well as a few grunts of effort from Santana, before the characteristic _pop_ echoes through the room and the cork launches into her palm.

"Fucking A," she smiles before immediately taking a sip from the bottle, her mouth tingling from the tartness of the drink as well as the carbonation.

Quinn scoffs. "Drinking from the bottle? What, are we in a rap video or something?"

Santana smirks as she launches into a familiar rhyme:

"The Moet and Alize keep me pissy,  
Girls used to diss me,  
Now they write letters 'cause they miss me."

She ends with a smile and a wink, and Quinn rolls her eyes, but Santana's head snaps around with wide eyes when the verse carries on.

"I never thought it could happen, this rappin' stuff,  
I was too used to packin' gats and stuff.  
Now honeys play me close like butter played toast,  
From the Mississippi down to the east coast.  
Condos in Queens, indo for weeks,  
Sold out seats to hear Biggie Smalls speak."

Rachel smiles wide, feeling like she was finally able to contribute to a conversation, but she's met by two dropped jaws and completely shocked expressions. "What?" she questions playfully. "I'm not allowed to know any hip hop?"

Santana's mouth opens and closes a few times, but she finds herself simply unable to form words. She moves to take a seat on the bed, half convinced she might collapse in surprise. Quinn just shakes her head in disbelief as she grabs the bottle from Santana's hands and takes a quick swig.

Rachel laughs lightly at their reactions. "I'm not as one-dimensional as you all seem to think."

Santana swallows a little thickly, trying to lubricate her suddenly dry mouth, feeling a bit more turned on than she probably should be at the moment. She grabs the bottle back from Quinn, taking a healthy gulp before wiping at her lips with the back of her hand. "Uh, yeah..." she mumbles out, her eyes still wide and her mouth still hanging slightly open.

Rachel smiles and walks over, hooking a finger beneath the ex-cheerio's chin to push her mouth shut before leaning in to brush against her lips. Quinn groans and rolls off of the opposite side of the bed, and Rachel just smiles further, taking the bottle from Santana's hand to take a sip.

"I would totally kick your ass in a rap battle," she winks before taking another swig.

Santana laughs outright at this, finding it so incredibly adorable that the diva thinks she has a single 'gangsta' bone in her body. She grins. "Baby, you ain't got shit on Lima Heights Adjacent."

Rachel laughs, and Santana falls back onto the bed, grabbing Rachel's shirt to pull the diva down with her―who just narrowly avoids spilling the champagne as she falls flush onto her girlfriend.

"Oh goddamnit," Quinn says exasperatedly. "Can you two fuck off already? If I get sick tonight, I'd like it to be from drinking and _not_ from watching you two hump like bunnies."

Santana drops her head to look at the blonde with an unimpressed eyebrow. "You're gonna be sick from my fucking fist in your eye pretty soon."

Rachel slaps her shoulder and moves to get up, causing Santana to slightly pout for a moment before turning her attention back to Quinn.

"Besides, I'd rather fuck _on_ than fuck off," she smirks.

Quinn's face twists slightly. "What the fuck does that even _mean_?" She immediately shakes her head, though. "You know what? Never-fucking-mind."

Rachel chuckles slightly at the pair's interaction. "Well," she voices as she looks over at the clock, placing the champagne down on the nightstand. "If we're going to get to Noah's on time, I think the most prudent use of our time right now would be to get ready, don't you?"

"Anal," Santana grumbles from her position on the bed.

Rachel arches a playful eyebrow and shakes her head slightly. "Well that's not even going to be an option if we never leave the house."

Santana's eyes nearly pop out of her head and Quinn gags.

"Oh my god, I fucking hate you both," she says simply as she raises a hand to her forehead.

Santana sits back upright with a satisfied smile, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig before looking at Rachel thoughtfully. "What are you planning to wear tonight?"

Quinn looks curious to know the answer, too, and moves to join Santana on the bed again, taking the bottle from the brunette.

The diva smiles bashfully under the attention. "Well, I brought the dress that you bought me for Christmas as well as some other dresses that I thought might suit tonight's festivities."

Quinn scoffs a bit of a laugh, raising a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting out her sip of drink before swallowing it down. "You're gonna be _way_ overdressed."

Rachel's face drops completely and she looks over to Santana for verification. The ex-cheerio pastes on an apologetic smile but nods in agreement.

"It's true," she shrugs slightly. "It's just Puck's house. People are gonna get super drunk and super spilly, so it's no use to wear anything super nice unless you wanna risk ruining it."

Rachel's brow furrows and she looks down at her bag solemnly, speaking in an incredibly soft voice. "I didn't bring anything else..."

Santana looks over the diva's current outfit, which just isn't going to pass muster, before looking to Quinn with a bit of a sigh. "Shall we?" she questions simply as she takes the bottle back and places it down on the nightstand.

The blonde nods with a bit of a smile. "We shall."

Both former cheerleaders stand and start to approach Rachel, who suddenly looks like prey staring into the face of its predators. "You shall _what_?" she questions cautiously, instinctively taking a few steps back, not liking the way the two girls are staring at her _at all_.

Quinn continues past the diva and to the closet, and Santana stops to run a reassuring hand along the girl's cheek. "You don't have clothes to wear, so we're going to clothe you," she smiles.

Rachel arches an eyebrow. "Clothe me in what?"

Quinn smirks as she starts to sift through Santana's clothes. "Well, not a fucking animal sweater, that's for sure," she lets out playfully.

Santana barely stifles a laugh, and Rachel pouts, prompting the taller girl to smile before leaning in to capture her lips once more, snaking a hand down to squeeze her ass lightly. "Don't worry," she breathes out against the diva's lips. "You get the final say on whatever we choose, ok?" she says reassuringly as she steps back, taking the girl's hands into her own.

"Ok," Rachel says softly with a nod, her eyes a little darker than moments prior.

Santana just smiles further and nods in return. "Ok."

* * *

"Nope," Quinn says simply as she takes a sip from the now nearly-empty champagne bottle, laid out on the bed with her head resting on her hand.

Rachel looks down self-consciously and Santana groans and runs a frustrated hand over her face from her position next to the diva, this being the tenth outfit the girl has tried on so far. They're starting to border on being late, and neither she nor Quinn has even started to get ready.

"You know, I'm really starting to wonder when _you_ became the executive decision-maker in all of this..." she trails off, raising an eyebrow at the blonde.

Quinn shrugs with a bit of a cocky smile. "_Obviously_ I have the best fashion sense here, so it's not all that surprising."

Santana raises an unimpressed eyebrow and scoffs a laugh. "Ok, Miss 'a-sundress-is-the-answer-to-everything'."

The blonde arches an eyebrow in return. "Better than Miss 'a-fucking-hooker-dress-is-the-answer-to-everything'," she counters with a smirk.

Santana rolls her eyes and pats Rachel's shoulder, shooting her a reassuring smile before heading over to the bed. She takes a seat on the edge, unapologetically grabbing the bottle from Quinn and downing the last bit before pushing the blonde's shoulder and gesturing her arm back towards the diva. "Ok, your turn, hotshot," she says somewhat mockingly.

Quinn just smiles and pops up from the bed before stalking over to the closet, grabbing Rachel on the way by and pulling her along. The diva has been surprisingly quiet during the whole debacle, seemingly overcome, and Santana can only assume that it's the first time she's really been treated as a Barbie doll. It's actually kind of adorable, and Santana's wearing a bit of a smile because of it.

Quinn leaves Rachel at the threshold to the small walk-in before disappearing to sift through Santana's clothes once more. She smiles when she eyes two pieces that she knows will work, and she tosses them over one arm before leaning her head back out. "Where do you keep your tees―preferably _white _ones?"

Santana shakes her head. "Racist," she teases before simply pointing to the dresser.

Quinn just rolls her eyes and nods before walking over. Once she has a suitable piece selected, she walks back over to the still-wordless diva and hands her the clothes before spinning her by the shoulders and pushing her, a little bit harder than necessary by Santana's judgment, towards the closet. "Those are it. Change," she instructs firmly.

Santana shoots the blonde a bit of a glare when she turns back around, but Quinn just smirks.

It's a few moments before Rachel steps out of the small room and Santana's jaw nearly meets the floor. The diva is dressed in an impossibly tight pair of Santana's dark skinny jeans that hug her every curve, her body being more curvaceous than Santana's own, a fitted white v-neck baby tee, and a tight black vest that cuts at all the right angles on the girl. Santana unconsciously licks her lips at the sight, and Quinn smiles in satisfaction.

"See? You can make her look hot without making her look like she gives back alley BJs," she smirks.

Santana rolls her eyes but grins, not missing the blonde's choice of words. "Fabray, did you just call my girlfriend 'hot'?" she questions with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Quinn blushes lightly―and Santana doesn't miss that, either―but also scoffs. "I said you can make her _look_ hot... even a St. Bernard looks good with the right window dressing."

Rachel looks over with a furrowed brow. "Wow, Quinn. The sincerity of your praise is just overwhelming."

The blonde shrugs. "Hey, I'm just putting things into perspective."

Santana shakes her head from her position on the bed, now leaning back on her hands. "People in glass houses, Q," she says a bit warningly.

Quinn looks over in slight confusion. "Excuse me?"

Santana lightly shrugs. "Kind of ironic for a _bitch_ to call someone a _dog_," she smirks.

Rachel laughs, looking over at her girlfriend adoringly, and Santana winks at the diva with a wide, reassuring smile.

Quinn just scoffs and shakes her head as she grabs some clothes from her bag. "Whatever, guess I'll just go get dressed then," she says simply, a bit defeatedly, as she heads into the closet to change.

Santana's still maintaining eye contact with Rachel, and, when the closet door clicks shut, she rises from the bed, swiftly approaching the diva and wrapping her arms around her slight body. "I haven't seen you dressed like this since the Britney Spears assembly," she observes with a smile as she runs her fingers along the small of the girl's back.

Rachel arches an eyebrow with a bit of a smug grin. "You like?"

Santana can't help but lick her lips again as she stares down the diva's body, her cleavage oh-so-perfectly on display, and she nods. "Yeah," she breathes out a bit huskily. "I think I'm about to have my own, personal 'Rachel Berry sex riot'," she adds with a raise of her eyebrows, tightening her arms around the girl's waist.

Rachel blushes furiously, but Santana doesn't give her a chance to look away before she leans in to kiss her firmly. They exchange slow, deep kisses, Rachel's hands gripping onto Santana's shoulders, neither girl pulling away until the door clicks open again and Quinn steps back into the room.

Santana looks over at the blonde with a bit of a smirk, leaving one arm around the diva's body as she gestures a hand dramatically towards the ex-cheerio. "Ladies and gentlemen, Quinn Fabray has finally come out of the closet."

Rachel chuckles and Quinn just rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, how about you just get your ass ready so we can actually get out of here?" she says simply before gesturing her head towards the clock, the time reading past 9 already.

Santana sighs and nods, though she still wears a satisfied smile as she looks over and locks eyes with a smiling Rachel. _This is gonna be a good night_.

* * *

**The song that both Santana and Rachel rap to is 'Juicy' by Notorious B.I.G.**

**So, next chapter will be the New Year's party, clearly. In store will be some drunken fun for the gleeks as well as Rachel and Santana's latest sleepover ;)**

**Thanks again for reading and I hope it was worth the wait! :3**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I'm having an interesting time with writing lately. I don't exactly know what's going on, but I'm trying not to force things and get lazy with the story because of it. As a result, I should probably warn you to expect sporadic updates over the next little while until I push through whatever this is; **_**but**_**, just know that I certainly haven't forgotten about this story, which is pretty much the love of my life these days... in fact, I have the majority of it planned out already.**

**TL;DR: I will update as often as I can without compromising the integrity of the story. I hope that sounds like a good enough deal :3**

**This one's a loooong one, fyi.**

* * *

It's another half hour before the girls are actually ready to leave the Lopez house, and they're beyond fashionably late at this point. The original goal was to get to Puck's for 9 o' clock, but by the time the threesome walk up to the front porch, it's closing in on 10. Santana smiles as she opens the front door and the pounding bass of the music rattles through her bones, already sensing that the night is going to be every bit as good as she had hoped.

The girls haphazardly dry their shoes on the doormat and shed their jackets before Puck glances over from the kitchen with a broad, excited smile.

"Well it's about fucking time!" he shouts down the hall with a laugh before disappearing into the kitchen for a moment. All three girls know what's coming at this point.

It's mere moments before he emerges into the hallway with an open bottle of vodka and three shot glasses.

Santana's eyes widen at the sight of the bottle and she looks up with a questioning eyebrow. "_Belvedere_? What, you big ballin' or something now?" she teases.

Puck scoffs a laugh before letting his mouth settle into a smug smile. "Babe, it's New Year's Eve... go big or go home," he winks, earning nothing but a roll of the eyes in return. His expression grows tender as he looks over to Quinn, though. "Hey," he says softly.

"Hi," she returns a bit shyly before Puck leans down and they share a chaste kiss.

Santana smiles at the sight and wraps her arm around Rachel's back, the girl instantly relaxing into her side, feeling oddly satisfied with how well things seem to be going between Puck and Quinn at the moment.

"Ok," Puck says simply as he straightens up, balancing the three glasses upright in one of his hands so that he can fill them. He carefully places the bottle down on the ground, being extra mindful not to spill the shots. "You know the deal," he smiles when he stands back upright, earning nods of understanding in return as he doles out a glass to each girl.

The girls clink their small glasses and shoot back their drinks, and Santana's actually surprised that Rachel makes it through it without coughing. Quinn seems just as surprised and releases a bit of a laugh.

"Looks like 'Little Miss Innocent' is finally learning how to handle her liquor," she observes with a playful smirk, but there's still a bit of a condescending tone there. It's not meant maliciously, and Santana's almost sure it was purely reflexive, but she still shoots the blonde an unimpressed glare as she leans down slightly to kiss the diva's head, squeezing her hip reassuringly.

"That's my girl," she smiles.

Rachel looks up with sparkling eyes and a bit of a blush, and Santana feels that flutter again.

"Ok," Puck breathes out, clearing his throat. "So, I'll take your jackets," he says simply as he reaches out for the items in question, collecting them over one of his arms. "And you ladies can take the vodka and yourselves into the kitchen, where the fridge is _fully _stocked," he emphasizes with an incredibly wide smile. "Beer, wine, wine coolers, a bar rail worth of the hard stuff, whatever you want."

Santana's eyes widen again. "You really weren't fucking kidding about going _big_."

"Well, you know me," he says playfully with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

It's all he says before turning to take off, and Santana really doesn't need elaboration, she just chuckles and shakes her head. As much as she'll tease him at every possible turn, and as smug as he'll act about it all, she _does_ know him, and she knows exactly why he's going all balls to the wall tonight. While a good half of this is just his usual commitment towards throwing a completely kickass, memorable party, the other half is him trying to impress Quinn. Though Santana thinks it might be a slightly misguided way to go about it, she still appreciates the fact that he's really trying.

As Puck disappears around the corner she shakes the train of thought, bringing herself back to reality. "Alright," she says cheerily, looking down at the girl on her arm before glancing over to Quinn. "Drinks?" she questions simply.

"Fuck yeah," Quinn smiles, and when Santana looks back to Rachel, the girl smiles and nods.

"Fuck yeah," she echoes with a broad smile of her own, unsure she's ever been this happy in her entire life.

* * *

It's about an hour later when all of the gleeks except for Finn―for whatever reason, Santana could really care less―have settled into the sitting room with their drinks, trying to decide on a drinking game to play. The usual suggestions of 'Truth or Dare' and 'Kings' come up, both shot down, before a lightbulb goes off in Santana's head.

She smiles, "How about 'I Never'?"

"_Yes_!" Mercedes agrees, nodding emphatically at the girl from her position on the couch before looking around the circle. "Does everyone know how to play?"

A few people shake their heads, and it's Quinn who clears her throat before explaining.

"Ok, so we go around in a circle," she points around the group in a clockwise motion. "And when it's your turn, you say 'I Never' followed by something that you've legitimately never done. Anyone who _has_ done that thing has to drink."

Puck nods in agreement with the blonde's words before expanding on her description. "Obviously the point of the game is to get everyone nice and sauced, so you wanna try to say things _you've_ never done, but that you think _other_ people _have_ done."

Nods happen all around the group, people seeming to like the premise of the game, but it's only a matter of seconds before Puck's face drops into a bit of a frown and he leans past Quinn towards Santana. "This is a really, _really_ bad idea," he nearly whispers.

Santana swallows her mouthful of beer before turning to look at the boy with an eyebrow arched. "What are you talking about?"

He shakes his head lightly with wide eyes. "Look at who we're playing with," he gestures his head slightly. "Me, you and Britts are gonna get totally fucking hammered while everyone else stays sober..."

Santana's eyes slightly widen as she looks around their little group―the circle consisting of Quinn and Puck to her left, followed by Brittany, Tina, Artie, Matt, Mike, Kurt, Mercedes, and, finally, Rachel to her right―and she groans in realization, suddenly starting to think that she should've just kept her mouth shut. Playing a game like 'I Never' with the straightedge brigade that is New Directions is a one way ticket to alcohol poisoning and sharing a lot more personal information than she would prefer. Really, as much as she _likes_ glee club, these are still just about the last people in the world she wants to know all her deepest, darkest.

Much to her delight, the first couple rounds pass by tamely, with mentions of rollercoasters and camping and other equally innocuous things, everyone starting to get a feel for the game and a bit of a buzz on. But when it comes to Quinn's turn, she decides to be the complete and utter bitch she loves to be.

She looks pointedly at Santana and she speaks with a smug grin. "I've never made out with a girl."

Santana groans, knowing she's not even going to have a chance to get back at Quinn until her turn comes back around, but drinks. Everyone else around the circle follows suit save for Mercedes and Quinn.

Quinn's eyes nearly pop out of her head. "_Tina_!" she laughs out in disbelief, prompting everyone else to look towards the girl too.

Tina swallows her mouthful of wine cooler before just shrugging. "I sang 'I Kissed A Girl' for my glee audition, what did you expect?"

"She's actually a really good kisser," Brittany adds, causing Tina to look down with a bit of a blush.

Artie glances between the two girls a few times before staring at his girlfriend in utter shock, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes completely glazed over. Puck leans over and punches his arm lightly before shooting him an approving nod and thumbs up, and Santana just chuckles at the scene.

Another round passes by―a round where Santana has had to take a drink every single time as people start trying to one-up one another―before it finally comes around to her turn and she decides to exact her revenge. She turns toward the blonde at her left with a highly satisfied smirk.

"I've never popped out a fucking baby. Drink up, fatty!" she laughs out, earning a resounding slap on her shoulder from the girl at her right.

Quinn grins and shoots an appreciative nod towards Rachel before taking her drink, and Santana just rolls her eyes and drops her brow as she turns towards the diva. "Whose girlfriend _are_ you, anyway?" she asks in annoyance.

Rachel smiles wide, "_Yours_. That's why I keep you in line," she adds with a smirk and a raise of her eyebrows before settling her head onto the ex-cheerio's shoulder.

Santana groans and the rest of the group gets a good laugh out of it.

"Ok, Q. _Your_ turn already," she breathes out through gritted teeth.

The blonde furrows her brow for a moment. "Ok, I've never failed a class in school."

Brittany and Puck take a drink.

Puck furrows his brow, trying to think of what he wants to say, before he clears his throat slightly. It seems to be pick-on-Santana day, though, because he turns towards her with a grin. "I've never seen a musical," he says with a wink, knowing full well what she and the diva did for Christmas.

Santana shakes her head warningly at the boy before taking her drink, but it doesn't really have the desired effect as Puck just laughs. Rachel, Kurt, Mercedes and Tina all drink as well.

Brittany seems to stare off into space for a long while, though it's unclear whether she's doing so in thought or distraction. Puck lightly elbows her and she snaps to.

"Ok!" she smiles cheerfully. "I've never tied someone to the bed and then used a strap―"

Santana's eyes widen and her face instantly reddens. "_Brit_!" she squeaks out in embarrassment, successfully silencing the girl. "Stop talking, I'll drink!"

Snickers and muffled laughs happen around the circle and Rachel just stares at her questioningly. She takes a longer swig than is probably necessary, hating the way she's suddenly been thrust into the spotlight again, before clearing her throat.

"Ok, _Tina's_ turn," she says insistently.

Tina is still lightly laughing but seems to have her turn at the ready. "I've never had a one night stand."

Brittany, Puck, Quinn, and Santana take drink.

Artie thinks for a moment before he speaks. "I've never had a hangover."

Santana laughs and bumps Rachel's shoulder with her own. "There's one for you, princess," she winks before taking her own drink.

Rachel rolls her eyes and drops her brow, but she takes a drink along with pretty much everyone else around the circle.

"I've never smoked a cigarette," Matt says simply.

Puck, Brittany, Quinn, Santana and Tina drink.

Mike lightly smirks as he looks back over to Matt. "I've never smoked weed."

Matt groans and shoves the boy's shoulder but drinks, with Puck, Brittany, and Santana following suit.

Rachel's eyes widen and she slaps her girlfriend's shoulder in reprimand. "_Santana_!" she chides in utter disbelief.

Santana almost laughs out her beer but manages to choke it down before she turns towards the diva with an arched eyebrow. "Well, what did you _think_ that smell was, because it most definitely wasn't garbage," she laughs out, Puck and Quinn slightly laughing along.

The wheels seem to be turning in Rachel's head for a moment before it finally clicks, and, when it does, she huffs and crosses her arms in front of her body, her lips dropping into a bit of a pout. Santana smiles a bit apologetically (though, if she's honest, she's kind of entertained by it all) and she snakes an arm around the diva's slight body before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.

"Gross," Quinn mutters out, and Santana just reaches her bottle holding hand blindly out to shove the blonde's shoulder in reprimand, making a mental note to find some way to get back at her later.

It's Kurt's turn, and the boy's brow furrows for a long while before he looks up with a bit of a shrug, seemingly at a loss. Santana smirks, seeing the opportunity she was waiting for present itself a lot sooner than anticipated.

"Kurt," she says simply, waving the boy close as she leans across the coffee table to whisper in his ear. When she pulls away the boy nods, and Santana grins even wider, keeping her eyes on Quinn as he speaks.

He clears his throat lightly. "I've never had a sexual fantasy about a girl."

Everyone around the circle except for Kurt and Mercedes drinks... _including_ Quinn.

Puck's jaw drops and Santana slaps the blonde's shoulder excitedly.

"HA! I fucking _knew_ it!" she laughs out, earning a groan in response. "There is _no_ way that someone as sexually repressed as you _hasn't _had homosexy fantasies!"

Quinn shoots a murderous glare at Santana, and Puck is stone still, staring at Quinn like she's just grown an extra pair of breasts.

"Oh my god," he breathes out unsteadily before realization hits him. "_Oh my god_! Can we please, please, _please_ have a threesome?" he questions excitedly, practically bouncing up and down in his seat, clapping his free hand against the side of his bottle. "I _promise_ I can split my attention equally between two chicks..." he pleads.

Kurt raises a hand to his chest. "I think I'm going to be physically ill."

Santana laughs and Quinn just shakes her head as she abruptly stands, shaking her empty bottle in indication.

"I need a refill," she says pithily before turning to leave, taking the opportunity to get away while she can.

A few others decide they need to replenish their drinks as well, and it's agreed upon that the game should end, there being less than half an hour left before the New Year, anyway.

Santana and Rachel head towards the bathroom, neither having taken a pee break during the game, only to find that there's a long wait to use the single washroom in the house. Santana just shakes her head, _Fuck that_, before grabbing Rachel's hand and leading her towards the front of the line, knowing exactly who to zero in on. Like clockwork, all it takes is some simple batting of her eyelashes and a bit of the Lopez charm to convince a couple football players to let them cut in.

Rachel watches in slight amazement as Santana works her magic, suddenly wondering how _anyone_ could resist her and feeling incredibly lucky that Santana chose _her_ out of the crowd.

When it comes Santana's turn to go, she tugs Rachel in with her, figuring it'll work out faster this way. Once the door is locked, Santana heads towards the toilet and drops her pants to the ground without a second thought―the alcohol having stripped away the few inhibitions she actually has while sober―while Rachel steps towards the mirror to fix herself up a bit.

"So, how is Noah always able to have these parties? It almost seems like he has them at bi-weekly intervals..." she trails off curiously, using her hands to fluff her hair slightly. "Where's his family?"

"They're with his grandma in Cincinnati," Santana answers without elaboration as she grabs some toilet paper. Rachel looks over questioningly, though, so she continues. "His Aunt Gal lives with his grandma full time and looks after her because she's..." she pauses, trying to find the right words, the slight buzz in her brain doing nothing to help the search. "Well, she's too old to take care of herself anymore." Rachel nods in understanding. "So, every couple weeks his mom and sister go down there for the weekend to visit and to give his aunt a break," she explains as she stands and pulls up her pants.

"Oh," Rachel breathes out in return, turning her head away with a bit of a blush at Santana's slight state of undress. "Well that's nice of them."

"Yeah," Santana replies simply, flushing the toilet and zipping up her jeans before stepping around the diva to use the sink. Rachel doesn't move, though, and Santana arches an eyebrow when she moves to dry her hands. "Don't you have to pee?"

Rachel looks down, the redness across her cheeks slightly deepening. "Well, yes."

Santana's brow furrows. "Well... we're in the washroom _now_, so now would be the ideal time to go unless you're planning to drop trou in the living room..." she trails off with a bit of a teasing smile.

Rachel looks up with a shy, slightly embarrassed smile of her own. "Can you turn around?"

Santana can't stifle a laugh. "You're serious?"

The diva nods and Santana chuckles softly at the girl's continued modesty, though she does as requested.

She feels kind of awkward as she stares at the wall, the only noise echoing around the small room being that of liquid hitting porcelain. Out of respect, though, she still doesn't turn around when she hears the toilet flush, but only when Rachel lets out a soft "Ok."

Santana turns to see Rachel struggling to do up the button on her pants, though she does eventually get it and the zipper done.

"These jeans are _far_ too tight," she says simply as she smoothes her hands along her denim-clad thighs.

Santana arches a playful eyebrow, letting a grin set across her face as she reaches out to grab the diva, pulling her close by her belt loops. "Would you be more comfortable if I took them off of you?" she lets out with a seductive lilt, shooting her stare down the girl's body at the piece of clothing in question.

"Yes," Rachel breathes out softly, and for a moment Santana's not sure whether she actually heard the word or if it was just wishful thinking.

She pulls back slightly and searches out downcast eyes, keeping her fingers tangled in denim. "Uhh, did you just say... _yes_?" she questions, part of her wondering where the girl's modesty went (though, to be real, the majority of her doesn't care.)

Rachel looks up and settles a hesitant lip between her teeth before nodding.

Santana's eyes darken and her thought process suddenly shifts to: _Oh my fucking god, I'm getting laid tonight_. She looks up slightly, silently thanking whoever the fuck is up there for looking out for her. _Happy fucking New Year to me!_ she muses with a wide smile as her heart starts to thump violently against her chest.

She tugs roughly on Rachel's belt loops, this time pulling their bodies flush, before tackling the girl's lips with her own. Rachel's hands hook around her neck and her own hands start to drift up the back of the diva's shirt, sliding to rest under the band of her bra. Their tongues dance in a quickly established rhythm, Santana relishing the familiar feel of Rachel's tongue sliding against her own, though the taste afforded her from the wine coolers Rachel has been drinking is a little more tart than usual. It's a few long moments before Santana pulls her lips back, if only to speak.

"Ugh, can we just get out of here?" she breathes out gutturally, the alcohol in her system quickly threatening to turn the spark within her into a full on fire.

Rachel's eyes slowly slide open though they stay heavy-lidded, almost all their colour having vacated in favour of darkness. "What about Quinn?" she questions softly, not even a hint of genuine objection in her voice.

Santana scoffs. "Fuck Q, she'll be fine."

"What about New Year's?" the diva pushes on, and Santana lets a grin set across her face.

She rakes her nails lightly down Rachel's back, earning a bit of a moan, before slipping one hand smoothly into the diva's back pocket and letting the other play along her lower spine. She leans in impossibly closer, ghosting her lips over the diva's teasingly before trailing hot breath up her jawline and leaning into her ear. "If we go back to my place, I can show you _much_ better fireworks than the ones on tv..." she husks out, letting her teeth graze the diva's lobe.

Rachel shivers in her arms, and when she pulls back the diva's eyes are dark and her breathing has regressed to something resembling a shallow wheeze. Rachel unconsciously licks her lips in anticipation but her eyes are hesitant. "What about your mom?" she breathes out with incredible softness.

Just like that, every bit of awesome, every bit of want and need buzzing through Santana, completely flushes out. True, Maria's already been back for a week now, but she hasn't been a factor for the past seven months. The fact is, regardless of whether it's because of the alcohol or just purely routine, Santana had already forgotten that she doesn't have her house to herself anymore... and Maria might not be too fond of her bringing Rachel home for some quality fucking. She groans heavily at the realization and drops her head to rest on the diva's. "I forgot," she lets out honestly.

"Sorry," Rachel says in return as she drops her stare, having sensed the shift in mood.

Santana raises a hand and hooks it under the girl's chin, bringing deep, brown eyes up to meet her own again. "You have nothing at all to be sorry for. It's not your fault she's back," she smiles softly.

Rachel nods lightly, though she still looks guilty as fuck.

Santana just shakes her head, her smile not faltering as she leans in to kiss the girl again. The kiss doesn't progress too far this time, though, as it's abruptly interrupted by a pronounced knocking at the door.

"Remember, no fucking in my house unless I can watch!" Puck's voice comes through the wooden barrier.

Santana laughs, pretty much into Rachel's mouth, the diva also laughing softly as they pull apart.

Santana looks down at her watch. "Yeah... we should probably get out there anyway. It's not too much longer now before the New Year."

Rachel smiles and nods, lifting to her tiptoes and brushing her lips against the ex-cheerio's before settling back down. "I can't wait," she smiles in return.

After Rachel washes her hands, they exit the small room to be greeted by a smirking Puck as well as some relatively angry looking line occupants. Santana grins in satisfaction at the pissed off people and Puck moves between the girls to throw a weighty arm over each of their shoulders.

"Alright, so you ladies have to come join the rest of the group in the kitchen to grab shots... then we're gonna watch the ball drop―"

Santana smirks and pokes at the boy's side. "Aw, Pucky's finally going through puberty."

Rachel laughs and Puck rolls his eyes as he uses his arm to pull the ex-cheerio into a bit of a headlock for a moment.

"_Anyway_," he presses on as he loosens his grip on a still-grinning Santana. "After the countdown and all that, I've got something special planned for us," he smiles wide at each girl, squeezing both their shoulders in emphasis.

Santana arches an eyebrow, but it's Rachel who looks up at Puck like he's absolutely insane.

"We're not having a threesome, Noah," she says bluntly.

Santana laughs again, looking past the boy to her girlfriend with an adoring smile. Puck lets out a bit of a laugh as well.

"It's nice that you went there, and I'm _definitely_ banking that information away for future reference..." he smirks. "But that's not even what I was getting at."

Both girls look up curiously and he laughs lightly.

"You'll see."

The threesome reach the kitchen, where the rest of the gleeks have gathered again, and Puck lets go, rather moving to the fridge to pull out a tray of jello shots. He meticulously doles them out, two a piece to each of the gleeks, before taking the rest of the tray out into the living room to offer the leftovers up to whoever's willing, waving for the group to follow after him.

Once the entire party has essentially assembled in the living room, Puck flicks on the tv to the countdown, where they find out they've only about five minutes left before the big moment. He turns off the stereo and turns up the volume on the tv so that they can hear the last musical performance before the count, which happens to be some soft, acoustic number that Santana vaguely recognizes.

A soft smile pulls at the corner of her lips at the song, and she suddenly doesn't care that she's surrounded by a room full of people. She turns to face Rachel and she slightly bends at the knees, leaving herself eye level with the girl she's managed to progressively fall for. "May I have this dance?" she asks sweetly, with a nervous eyebrow raised, actually feeling a bit vulnerable as she does.

Rachel's face lights up and, finding herself wordless, she just nods.

Santana's smile spreads further and the tension runs out of her body as she steps in close, wrapping her arms loosely around the girl's torso. It's slightly awkward, given that she has a plastic shot glass of alcohol-laden jello in each hand, but she really doesn't care, and Rachel doesn't seem to mind either as she moves her equally-full hands to wrap around the ex-cheerio's shoulders. Their bodies nearly flush, Santana starts swaying from side to side, guiding the hips between her arms to match the rhythm of her own, and Rachel releases a bit of a giggle as they start to move in a slow circle.

"I feel like we're at a middle school dance," she says softly with that damn sparkle in her eyes again, and it makes Santana's knees feel a little weak and her head feel a little clouded.

She shakes her head gingerly before she softly smirks. "They never would've let us dance this close in middle school," she breathes out before closing the small gap between their lips.

The kisses are chaste, just gentle brushes of sensitive skin against sensitive skin, but they make Santana's chest tighten and her stomach flutter. Despite the loud chatter surrounding them courtesy of the numerous underagers displaying varying levels of intoxication, it almost feels as if they're the only two in the room, in the _world_, the only sound making it to either of their ears being the song emanating from the tv.

_Let's not lose our way  
Let's not wait to say  
How we feel inside,_

_'Cause today is a great day for falling in love._

Santana pulls her lips away and their eyes lock, brown on brown, freckle mirroring freckle, seemingly having an unspoken conversation as their expressions shift between disarmingly soft and slightly nervous smiles. Santana's eyes drift shut again as she drops her forehead to rest on the diva's, and Rachel's eyes soon follow suit.

_When you're falling, falling  
Just don't let go._

_Let's not lose this chance_  
_Hold onto my hands_  
_Let's not waste this time,_

_'Cause today is a great day for falling in love._

Santana's heart feels like it's attacking her ribs, and she seriously wonders when her feelings, her actual _feelings_, started to get so intense. It's a little off-putting, but, if she's quite honest, it's one of the best feelings she's had in a really long time. She doesn't feel like a shell anymore, she feels like a living, breathing human being; she feels fucking alive and it feels fucking fantastic.

As the last notes of the song strain out through the television, she leans forward to capture Rachel's lips again, feeling like they're a part of her own being and she needs to bring them back.

_Falling in love._

Quinn seems to finally look over and notice the pair as the song ends, her sharp scoff cutting through Santana's complete haze.

"You two are _so_ fucking gay."

Santana smiles against Rachel's lips, holding back a bit of a laugh, before she pulls back, leaving one arm wrapped around her girl as she looks over to the blonde.

"This from the girl who just came out of the closet."

Quinn rolls her eyes and Santana's mouth settles into a grin.

"Guess you know how to recognize your own kind, huh Q?"

Quinn laughs, leaning further into Puck's side, pulling his arm more firmly around her body. "You just keep dreaming, S."

Santana arches an eyebrow. "Well, apparently _you're_ the one who's been dreaming about it," she smirks before wiggling her eyebrows teasingly.

Quinn rolls her eyes again and Puck turns his head to face the rest of the room. "Shut the fuck up, everyone! The countdown's about to start!"

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear, and when the final count does begin, the entire room joins in.

"10!"

Santana looks towards Rachel with a soft smile.

"9!"

Rachel returns the smile, and Santana's heart reaches a gallop again.

"8!"

Santana turns her body towards Rachel again, letting her wrists rest against the diva's hips.

"7!"

Rachel's arms take residence around Santana's neck once more.

"6!"

Rachel shifts both shots into one hand, letting the other tangle in Santana's hair.

"5!"

Santana shivers and her eyes blacken, though she doesn't move an inch, as Rachel's fingers gently massage the back of her head.

"4!"

Rachel tugs lightly on the ex-cheerio's neck, pulling her closer, preparing for the climax.

"3!"

Santana's temporary haze breaks at Rachel's insistence, and she tightens her hold around the diva's body, pressing their pelvises together.

"2!"

Rachel's smile spreads at the contact and she wets her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue.

"1!"

Santana's heart is beating in a frantic rhythm as she thinks of the ramifications of the kiss that's about to happen; the weight of it, the _meaning_ behind it. It's a promise, a guarantee that the next year is going to be spent the way this moment is being spent―just Rachel and Santana and nothing fucking else matters. Quite frankly, Santana's starting to think she prefers it this way.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The loud shout reverberates throughout the room, followed by a roar of cheering, but the echo hasn't even dissipated before Santana's lips are on Rachel's again, her hands wanting desperately to drop the shots in their grip to feel out skin instead. The kiss, which Santana originally planned to keep chaste, turns out to be anything but. Rachel's tongue runs along her lower lip, and, when she denies entry, the diva tugs firmly on the hair in her grasp and lets her teeth enter the fray. She urgently bites at the ex-cheerio's lip, and Santana really can't fight the soft moan that slips out―though it's effectively drowned out by the familiar strains of 'Auld Lang Syne' playing in the background.

Their tongues meet again, and Santana's almost sure she's losing control of her bodily functions when an embarrassingly guttural moan escapes her lips; not that she would care to stop it right now, even if she could. Right now the only thing on her mind is the feel of Rachel pressed against her and the gentle throbbing that's starting to settle between her thighs. She finds herself lost in the abyss; that is, up until a hand tugs at her arm.

"Hey," Puck's voice comes, softly but urgently.

Santana audibly groans and rolls her eyes beneath closed lids before turning to face the boy with an absolute glare.

He still has an arm wrapped around Quinn, but he raises both hands up in submission. "Just wanted to remind you that I've got a surprise for us all," he smiles softly. "And also," he drops a hand to point. "To let you know that you're slacking on your New Year's shots."

The smile is charmingly good-natured, and it makes Santana sigh heavily. She pushes back the reflexive anger of being interrupted (because, really, Rachel's lips, Rachel's _tongue_, are about the last things she wants to be pulled away from) and lightly nods. She reluctantly pulls away from Rachel, only letting about a foot of space between their bodies, before lifting one of the plastic cups to her lips and taking the gelatin into her mouth. She quickly chews and swallows the shot before the other cup meets the same fate.

Rachel watches with wide eyes before looking warily down at the shots in her own hands. "Uh..." She flips one of the cups upside down, noting how the shot stays nestled in the glass, before looking up questioningly.

Santana smiles softly, unable to resist leaning in to kiss the diva's cheek. "Just squeeze the cup and the jello will fall out."

Rachel nods and does as instructed, downing both shots quickly before shaking her head with a bit of a grimace. "That tastes nothing like jello."

Santana, Quinn, and Puck chuckle at the display, and when Santana looks over to Quinn she's smiling.

"Happy New Year, S," Quinn says softly, stepping out of Puck's grasp and closing the small gap between their bodies.

Santana gladly accepts the hug, wrapping her arms tightly around the girl who's been, for better or worse, one of her best friends for the past ten years. "Happy New Year, Q," she says simply in return before pulling back with a smile.

"Best year ever, right?" the blonde questions with a smirk.

"Fuck yeah," Santana smirks in return.

"What, no love for el Puckarone? I see how it is," the boy says in mock-hurt.

Santana rolls her eyes before stepping into Puck's waiting arms.

"Happy New Year, San," he smiles, wrapping his arms firmly around the girl's shoulders.

Santana lets her own arms drift around the boy's midsection. "Happy New Year, Pucky," she lets out playfully.

Puck rolls his eyes with a smile as he pulls away, and Santana glances over to Rachel, surprised to see her in a loose hug with Quinn. She smiles at the sight but arches a curious eyebrow.

"So... should I be worried about the two of you getting cozy now, then?" she questions, unable to fight the shit eating grin that crosses her face.

Quinn pulls out of the embrace with an absolute grimace that is soon followed by a glare, but Puck's hand comes down firm on Santana's shoulder.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to properly repay you for that mental image," he drawls out, drawing a laugh from Santana and a pair of dropped brows from the two other girls.

Quinn comes by Santana's side, and Puck and Rachel share a quick hug before Puck turns towards them with a smile.

"Alright, everyone ready for the surprise?"

"Ok?" Santana lets out questioningly, glancing over to Quinn, who looks equally confused, then over to Rachel, whose expression matches.

He just waves an arm for the three girls to follow along, "Come on."

Santana arches an eyebrow, and Quinn and Puck make it a few steps away before she takes any action at all. She shakes her head slightly before stepping towards Rachel and sliding a hand down her forearm to take a small hand within her own. She just squeezes it reassuringly, wordlessly, putting on a soft smile before turning to walk, pulling the slight girl along behind her.

Puck leads the foursome to his room, which makes Santana grow wary again. She's only ever been in Puck's room for two reasons: sleeping and fucking, and she's sincerely hoping he's not actually thinking of the latter.

Puck walks over to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, cracking it open and pulling something out before turning with a smile. "Champagne... for the fancy bitches," he amends with a smirk.

Santana shoots him a glare, and Quinn mirrors it physically by slapping his shoulder, which makes Santana smile.

Puck ignores the impact, rather heading to the nightstand to grab four plastic champagne flutes that he, seemingly, had as the ready. He starts to make quick work of opening the bottle, and Quinn's eyes widen when she actually notices the label.

"_Moët_?" she questions as the pop of the cork echoes throughout the room.

Puck smirks lightly as he starts pouring the first glass. "Only the best for my best bitches."

Santana laughs, but Quinn slaps his shoulder again.

"Hey!" he chides firmly, stopping his pour before turning towards the blonde. "This shit is seriously expensive, _please_ don't make me spill it."

Santana smirks. "Yeah, that'd be alcohol abuse."

Quinn rolls her eyes, but speaks only to Puck. "Stop giving me reasons to hit you and I'll stop hitting you."

Rachel lightly chuckles, and Quinn gives her a nod of appreciation once more.

Santana walks over towards Puck to help with the glasses, and she lowers her voice as she looks at him questioningly. "How much fucking money did you spend on tonight?"

He grins as he starts to pour the final glass, the volume of his voice matching Santana's own. "I charged twenty bucks a head for everyone to get in here tonight." He turns to hand her two of the glasses with a broad smile. "Believe it or not, I'm actually making a profit."

Santana laughs and shakes her head as she takes the drinks proffered. For a boy who's not so book smart, he's still pretty fucking clever when it gets right down to the nitty-gritty.

She makes her way back over to Rachel and hands her a drink before dropping to take a seat on the edge of Puck's bed. Rachel manoeuvres herself to take a seat on the ex-cheerio's lap, hooking an arm around her neck, and Puck and Quinn assume a similar seating arrangement a little bit further down the bed.

"Alright," Puck smiles as he raises his glass. "Here's to surviving another year and hoping we make it through the next!"

"_And_ to making new friends," Quinn says, raising her glass in kind, looking kindly towards Rachel, which makes the diva blush a little.

"_And_ to health and happiness," Santana smiles, raising her own glass.

"_And_ to the New Directions winning Nationals this year," Rachel smiles impossibly wide, lifting her own glass up to meet the other three with the gentle thud of plastic on plastic.

"Happy fucking New Year, bitches," Puck smirks, earning another slap on the shoulder and a few chuckles before they each take their first sip. He starts to tickle at Quinn's sides a little bit and they fall into their own little fight as Rachel turns her attention towards Santana, lifting her hand up to run it the length of her girlfriend's hair.

"So... what's your New Year's resolution?"

Santana's brow furrows. "Isn't that one of those things that you can't tell anyone else or it won't come true?"

Rachel's brow knits to match and she shakes her head. "Uh, no, that's a birthday wish," she says with a bit of a chuckle.

"Oh," Santana lets out as she drifts off into thought for a moment, taking a sip from her glass. Truth is, she's never really thought about it because, to her, it's about as stupid a concept as making birthday wishes. And if there's one thing she's learned in her sixteen years of existence, it's that her wishes never come true. After a short while she shrugs. "I don't know, I guess I don't really have one."

"Santana," Rachel lets out in that overly naggy voice that Santana's become all-too-familiar with. "You can't _not_ have a New Year's resolution. It's important to give yourself something to strive for."

Santana rolls her eyes before arching an eyebrow. "So what's yours then?"

"My what?"

Santana rolls her eyes again. "Your resolution, Einstein," she replies with a teasing smile.

Rachel pouts briefly before a smile starts to a tug at her lips and a bit of a blush spreads out across her cheeks. "It's pretty general..."

"And it is...?"

Rachel sighs as she looks deeply into brown eyes that seem to mirror her own. "To get it right this time. To make things work. To make _us_ work."

Santana's heart flutters and she tightens her arm around the diva's waist, reaching her glass-holding hand out to draw lazy patterns on the girl's thigh with her finger. "Really?" she asks with uncharacteristic softness.

Rachel nods. "Yeah," she answers softly.

Santana's heart thumps heavily against her ribs and she closes the small gap between them to brush her lips against the diva's. When she pulls away, Rachel is wearing a soft smile.

"If you need a suggestion for yours..." she trails off in offering before taking a sip of her drink.

Santana wants to roll her eyes but finds herself feeling curious instead. "Why, what would you suggest?"

Rachel shrugs lightly. "Well, maybe that you stop doing drugs."

Santana's brow furrows and she huffs a bit of a laugh. "I don't _do_ drugs."

Rachel shakes her head, not taking the answer as adequate. "You're a pothead."

Santana just laughs, full out this time, her eyes wide. "Rachel, smoking weed, like, twice a year does _not_ make me a pothead."

"It's still illegal," the diva says tersely.

Santana arches an eyebrow as a bit of a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I've done a lot less legal things than smoke a little weed..."

Rachel looks unimpressed. "You know, it's a gateway drug..."

Santana can't help but laugh again. "Thank you, McGruff the Crime Dog."

Rachel rolls her eyes and shoots back the rest of her champagne before pulling out of Santana's grasp, rising to her feet and moving to leave. Santana quickly stands, reaching out and grabbing a belt loop to pull the diva back to her. Rachel's back comes to rest on her front, and she lets her hands drift to the girl's hipbones, massaging the skin found there.

She leans into the shorter girl's ear. "Where are you going?" she lets out breathily, making sure the air rushes across the sensitive skin of Rachel's neck.

Rachel visibly shivers. "To get a drink," she offers weakly.

Santana places a soft kiss on the girl's neck before spinning the slight body in her arms. She shakes her head. "Nope, we're dancing," she smirks with a raise of her eyebrows.

* * *

They dance for an hour or so with the rest of the gleeks before Santana finds herself needing a bathroom break again, starting to think that she might have broken the seal a little too early on in the night. She takes off and does her thing and when she comes back she can see Rachel talking to Finn off at the side of the dancefloor, his hand gripping around her upper arm. Santana's brow furrows and she can feel her blood start to run a little hot, the scene on display stirring up a whole fuck load of déjà vu in her mind. Part of her is already prepared to rip Finn's balls off and feed them to him as a late-night snack, but she walks over as calmly as she can.

Rachel looks up excitedly when she notices her approaching. "Santana!" she smiles impossibly wide, starting to get a bit of a drunk face on, using a hand to wave her over.

Santana arches a wary eyebrow, chancing a glance over at Finn, who drops his hand and shrugs, before looking back to her girlfriend.

"Ok, I'm glad that I have you both here because I have something that I wish to discuss with you both." She pauses to smile at each of them. "I was hoping that we could together next weekend."

She says it simply but it causes both Finn and Santana to look at each other before looking over to the diva with wide eyes.

Santana arches a disapproving eyebrow and shakes her head slightly. "Who's the '_we_' in that sentence?"

"The three of us," Rachel smiles.

Finn's arms instinctively cross in front of his body and Santana's arms automatically clasp on her hips, neither seeming particularly pleased with the suggestion. Fact is, despite the fact that Santana and Finn are going to be working together on their revenge plan against Karofsky & co., what Rachel's suggesting sounds an awful lot like friendship, and that's something that _neither_ of them are particularly interested in.

"Uhh," Finn lets out, looking at the diva like she's gone completely off her nut. "This sounds like a really, _really_ bad idea."

Santana nods and gestures her head. "Douche Magoo is right."

The boy turns his head and looks at her pointedly. "Is that really all you're good for? A bit of revenge and the occasional insult?" he groans, his voice rising in volume.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Calm down, man boobs, there's no need to start lactating over it. I feel like you should be put on a farm and milked."

"Santana..." Rachel draws out, half in reprimand and half pleadingly.

Santana sighs heavily and rolls her eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "Fine, _whatever_."

Rachel's eyes light up and a disgustingly large smile spreads across her features, but, as much as Santana hates it, she can't fight the smile that tugs at her own lips at the sight. Rachel rises to her toes and leans to kiss Santana on the cheek, and Santana hopes that it's the heat of the booze and not a blush that runs into her cheeks.

Finn looks away before clearing his throat awkwardly. "Yeah, fine, I'm gonna go," he says simply, and, when met with no objection, he leaves just as simply.

Santana smiles and runs a hand down to twine her fingers with Rachel's, bringing the girl's hand up to brush her lips across its back. Rachel smiles bashfully and Santana steps forward to wrap an arm around the diva's waist.

"So... drink? Then maybe some more dancing?" she suggests with a quirked eyebrow.

"Sounds wonderful," Rachel beams before rising to brush her lips across the ex-cheerio's once more.

They only make it about halfway to the kitchen before a borderline overly inebriated Puck catches sight of them and pads over to meet them. "Shots!" he smiles excitedly, grabbing Santana's arm and tugging her along―by extension tugging Rachel, who is still attached to Santana's hand.

She rolls her eyes as they reach the kitchen and the bottle of vodka awaiting them. "Where's Q?"

Puck shrugs. "I think she's hanging out with B right now."

Santana nods, watching with an arched eyebrow as the boy sloppily pours the shots―managing to spill a little on the counter before haphazardly wiping at the small puddle with the sleeve of his shirt―and she wonders how much booze he must have packed away over the past hour to be _this_ drunk already.

He turns around with a lazy smile, "Shots for my favourite girls."

Santana arches an eyebrow as she accepts a glass. "Quinn not one of your favourites anymore?"

He scoffs and waves out a thoughtless arm, almost managing to hit Rachel as he does. "You know what I mean," he slurs out.

Rachel takes a step back, one that puts her closer to Santana, before hesitantly accepting a shot glass from Puck. "Noah," she starts a little worriedly. "It seems as though the most judicious idea at the moment might be for you to _not _have a drink..." she trails off, pointing warily at the small glass that the boy has retrieved for himself from the countertop.

Santana's eyes widen, surprised that the diva actually said something, but she nods her agreement. "Rachel's right, Pucky, you're starting to look like you've had a few too many..." she trails off somewhat carefully, not wanting to rile him up.

Puck just scoffs and drinks back his shot before pointing a finger out at the girls with his now empty glass. "It'd do you two some good to drink a little _more_... maybe if you took the edge off, you'd finally get it in," he winks, nowhere near subtly, at Santana.

Rachel's eyes widen and she huffs before abruptly slamming her still-full shot glass down onto the counter, spinning on her heel and walking away. Santana groans and runs a frustrated hand over her face, watching the diva go for a moment before turning back to Puck, who is still grinning like a fucking idiot. Truth be told, if he were anyone but Puck right now, and if he didn't look like a fucking helpless little puppy at the moment, she'd probably kick his fucking ass.

"Thanks a lot, _Puckhead_. You're seriously starting to turn into the ultimate fucking cockblock, you know that?" she says with no small amount of venom in her voice.

He just scoffs, and Santana slams back her shot before grabbing and slamming back the second one. She shakes the burning sensation before stomping out of the kitchen, almost bumping straight into Brittany and Quinn as she does.

"Hey," Quinn greets with a smile, though it slightly falters when she sees the redness in Santana's eyes. "What happened?"

Santana rolls her eyes, not even wanting to go there right now. "Have you guys seen Rachel?" she asks simply, though it's laced with a bit of urgency.

Brittany nods. "Yeah, she took off towards Puck's room. She looked angry... or drunk... or both..." she trails off, as if she's trying to figure it out herself.

Santana just nods, "Thanks," before quickly heading towards the side hallway, leaving two confused blondes behind.

When she gets to the room, Rachel is pulling on her jacket already.

She closes the door behind her. "Rach―" is all she manages to get out before the girl spins around.

"Why does Noah know about our sex life?" she asks sternly, approaching with long, slow footsteps, her expression as serious as a heart attack.

_Lack thereof_, is Santana's immediate thought, but she shakes it and sighs. "He's one of my best friends. We talk about _everything_," she shrugs, a part of her wondering why the girl's so upset about it anyway.

Rachel stops in her tracks, but she starts to button up her jacket. "Well then, you can also tell him about how I left the party and you went home alone with Quinn."

Santana's face drops impossibly further and she quickly approaches her girlfriend, placing her hands on smaller ones to stop their motion.

Rachel only has about two buttons done up when her hands are stilled, and she looks up with hurt in her eyes. "Why would you do that? Am I just a conquest or something to you? Something you can brag about to your 'best friend'?"

Santana quickly shakes her head, slightly nestling a lip between her teeth for a worried moment. It suddenly hits her that Rachel doesn't really have a best friend (or two, for that matter) to confide in like she does. "Of course not, you _have_ to know that. I mean, come on..." Brown eyes look away. "Rach..." she says pleadingly.

Rachel doesn't look back up, but her posture does soften. Santana takes it as a good sign. She moves to the bed, lightly tugging the diva's hand so that she'll follow, and, thankfully, she does.

They settle side-by-side on the edge of the mattress, a disconcerting amount of space between their bodies. Santana runs her hands along her thighs somewhat nervously before chancing a glance at the girl next to her, who is looking straight ahead at the wall. She shifts in her seat, lifting a leg up onto the bed so that she can turn to face the diva fully.

"Rachel," she breathes out softly, raising a hand to tuck some hair behind the girl's ear. The diva still doesn't pay her any mind, so she raises her other hand to run it along the girl's cheek, gently coaxing brown eyes to meet her own. "Rachel, look at me," she pleads.

Rachel sighs but gives in, turning to look at her girlfriend, albeit with an exhausted expression. Santana smiles softly, gently, and Rachel's actually a little taken aback by how uncharacteristically tender the expression is.

"You're not a 'conquest'," Santana says first and foremost, needing to get that ridiculous idea out of the way. "You never were and you never will be. You're more than that." Rachel's expression still reads slightly vacant, and it actually causes Santana to chuckle softly and shake her head before she looks deep into her favourite mahogany pools. "You're my princess, remember?" she breathes out softly, feeling that uncomfortable vulnerability again.

It's said so softly that Rachel almost doesn't hear it, even with her superhuman hearing, but, when she does, she comes back to life. Her eyes focus on the warm ones in front of her, the deep, dark eyes that have come to mean so much to her, and she nods.

Santana nods lightly in return, running the pad of her thumb gently along the diva's cheek. "And I'm your knight in shining armour, right?"

A bit of a smile quirks at the corner of Rachel's mouth as she nods again, and it makes a bit of a smile start to take form on Santana's face as well.

"And we're gonna get through everything together. We'll fight the Davids, the cheer bitches, the Karofskys, the whoever- and whatever-the-fucks get in our way, and we'll _win_ every. single. fucking. time." she enunciates. "And you know why?"

Rachel's head cocks slightly to the side and she shakes her head as she looks at the ex-cheerio longingly, curiously. "Why?" she whispers out.

A bit of a grin pulls at Santana's lips and she can't help the smugness of her voice. "Because I'm Santana fucking Lopez and I _always_ get my way," she smirks with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Something in Rachel's eyes shifts as she smiles, and she barely pauses before she―quite surprisingly, to Santana―lunges forward, tackling the ex-cheerio down onto the bed, slamming her lips against the slightly thinner ones now beneath her.

Santana's frozen for a moment, half convinced that this absolutely _cannot_ be happening, before Rachel's thigh happens to take residence between her own, bringing her right back to reality. She reaches her hands up, carelessly tearing at the buttons on Rachel's jacket as their tongues meet again―slipping and sliding with practiced expertise―and they exchange soft, almost frantic moans.

Rachel lifts herself slightly to remove the jacket and Santana pouts at the sudden loss of contact, but the diva immediately settles back down and bites down on the ex-cheerio's lip. Santana inhales a sharp breath at the sensation, but the slight pain feels so incredibly fucking good right now. Rachel shifts her thigh slightly, letting it make contact with Santana's core, and suddenly Santana's on autopilot. She runs her hands up the back of Rachel's shirt, letting them drift around the band of the girl's bra before starting to tease her nipples through the thin lace. Rachel moans deeply and thrusts her thigh even harder, and Santana starts to wonder if she can come from just dry humping the girl on top of her, her pelvis involuntarily thrusting up to meet the contact.

She groans, turning her hands around and hooking her fingertips into the girl's bra, tugging her down so that their bodies are flush. She hooks a leg around one of the diva's, quickly collecting her momentum before rolling them over onto the pile of coats on the bed. She lets her hands palm the diva's breasts beneath the fabric of her bra, earning drawn out moans and highly frantic breaths that she muffles with her own mouth. She drives her thigh down hard onto Rachel's centre and the girl practically squeals, pulling her mouth away for air.

Santana kisses, nips, and licks at the diva's throat as she slides her hands back down and out of the shirt, rather using them to rip open the vest―never planning on using it again, anyway―and start to tug up on the white t-shirt. She abandons Rachel's neck, rather shifting down to start kissing and licking her abs as the girl's hands tangle in her hair. She circles a skilful tongue around the diva's bellybutton as her fingers start to drift along the length of the girl's waistband. Rachel bucks up, and Santana smirks, shifting her hands to the diva's hips and pushing her down flat against the bed.

"_Santana_," comes a breathless, frantic voice.

Santana lifts her head to look up at Rachel, who is looking down at her with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Don't stop," is all the girl says before dropping her head back onto the pile of fabric, and it's all Santana needs to hear before setting back to work.

She lets her hands drift around to latch onto Rachel's ass as she runs her mouth a little further up again. She's just about reached the girl's bra when she hears the door slam open. She pulls back immediately, looking at the intruder with wide eyes, and Rachel tugs down frantically at her shirt.

Quinn doesn't even flinch. "I don't care if you two are in the middle of fucking right here and now; I need to get the fuck out of here."

Santana's breathing is embarrassingly heavy, and she stares at the blonde for a long while before her lungs allow her to speak. "Ok," and a nod is all she can come up with, and Quinn's already reached the bed at this point and is tugging at her jacket that is trapped underneath Rachel's body.

Rachel sits up to aid in the effort, and Santana arches an eyebrow.

"Puck?"

Quinn just nods as she pulls on the coat. "Remind me to never go near him when he drinks, ok?" she almost laughs out in frustration.

Santana nods in silent understanding, and also in agreement. "Sure thing, Q." Puck may be a great friend and all, but when it comes to drinking, sometimes he just doesn't seem to know when he's had enough... and that's something Quinn's had enough experience with to last numerous lifetimes.

Quinn pauses and looks over with a bit of a guilty smile. "I'm sorry for interrupting," she lightly shrugs.

Santana just waves a dismissive hand as she rises from the bed, reaching her other out to help her girlfriend up. "Don't worry, Q, you didn't interrupt anything. I live five minutes away, I consider this an intermission." She smirks before looking back to Rachel, who blushes, and shooting her a wink.

Quinn shakes her head with a disgusted expression, raising her hands up in front of her body. "Too far."

Santana chuckles softly as she pulls her jacket on, but can't fight the darkness in her eyes as she looks over to Rachel, whose eyes are dark to match. She's suddenly fucking ecstatic that she lives so close.

* * *

It's only a short while before they're out on the snowy streets, making the cold walk back towards the Lopez household. Rachel and Santana are walking in tandem, their arms linked together, leading the way with Quinn trailing close behind.

They walk on in silence for a few minutes before Santana feels something cold and hard make impact with the back of her head. She reaches a hand back to feel the icy wetness of snow spread throughout her hair, and she turns around with wide eyes to see Quinn smirking at her.

"Thought you might need to cool off," the blonde chuckles, and the look she's sending is almost challenging.

Santana shakes her head. "Don't get yourself into something you're not prepared to get yourself out of, Fabray," she says warningly.

Quinn just laughs before launching another snowball at the ex-cheerio, one that meets Santana's shoulder with a thud. She looks down at the spot of snow before looking over to the blonde with an absolute glare.

"You're fucking dead," she says menacingly before pulling away from Rachel and grabbing a handful of snow herself. She launches the ball at a laughing Quinn―though, of course, it goes nowhere near her target.

"Empty threat," Quinn laughs out, though her laughter stops when something makes impact with her chest. She looks down to see a patch of snow before looking up with wide eyes to see a particularly smug Rachel grinning.

"You forget, Quinn, that _she_ has backup," the diva smirks.

Santana smiles wide, looking at her girlfriend with absolute adoration. Rachel returns the smile, but gestures her head towards the blonde, and Santana nods in understanding.

Quinn seems to have a feel for what's about to happen, and she shakes her head. "Don't even fucking think about it..." she draws out warningly.

Santana and Rachel just share another nod before they both rush towards Quinn, who tries in vain to retreat. Santana tackles her around the waist into the snow bank behind her as Rachel tosses a handful of loose snow onto the fallen girl. Both Santana and Rachel fall into laughter as Quinn struggles to escape.

"This isn't fucking fair!" the blonde breathes out, launching handfuls of snow up at her attackers.

"You started it, Q," Santana laughs.

Quinn groans. "It's two against one!"

Santana smirks, "Untrue. You said we were one person. That sounds like a pretty fair fight to me, no?" she says playfully, looking over to Rachel for verification.

Rachel nods but also shivers, and Santana immediately stops her assault on Quinn as her expression drops. She stands from her position straddling Quinn and rather offers the blonde her hand.

"It's getting pretty cold out here, we should probably get home."

Quinn arches a wary eyebrow as she stares at Santana critically, not sure if she believes her or not, but she takes her hand nonetheless.

The threesome spend a few moments brushing snow off of themselves before they finally do make the rest of the walk to the Lopez house. The house is dark, and Santana thanks her lucky stars that Maria seems to have gone to sleep already.

They enter quietly, and Rachel heads upstairs to change while Santana heads into the living room with Quinn to help her get her bed for the night set up.

Neither really talks until they're tucking a flat sheet around the couch cushions and Santana arches a curious eyebrow, unable to bite back the urge to ask. "So... are things gonna be alright between you and Puck?"

Quinn groans in response as she tucks in a corner. "I really don't want to talk about it."

Santana nods as she turns her attention back towards the couch. "I'm sorry," she lets out softly, solemnly.

Quinn shakes her head. "Forget about it," she says simply as she pulls the sheet taut to tuck in the final corner. "I'll worry about all of that later. Right now I just wanna get this shit done so I can change into dry clothes and pass the fuck out.

Santana just nods, grabbing the comforter and pillow she had put out earlier from an arm chair and tossing them to the blonde. "Thanks for taking the couch, Q," she says a bit sheepishly.

Quinn scoffs. "I don't cockblock... even if I think that the idea of you and Rachel together is pretty much the most disgusting thing I've ever heard," she trails off teasingly.

Santana just chuckles and shakes her head, following along as Quinn grabs her bag and heads out into the hallway. It comes time to separate when they reach the downstairs bathroom, and the blonde turns around with a bit of a smirk.

"Remember not to fuck too loudly, your mom's in the next room."

Santana rolls her eyes with another chuckle. "Thanks for the reminder, Q. You're really helping out with the sexy feelings right now."

Quinn lets out a bit of a satisfied chuckle in return as she shrugs. "I do what I can," she says smugly, but it's only a few moments before she slightly nods and her expression grows soft, and, for the first time, Santana can actually _see_ that Quinn is happy for her.

It makes Santana smile wide and she takes a long step forward to pull the girl into a hug. "Good night, Q."

Quinn returns the hug before pulling back with a soft smile. "Night, S."

When Santana gets upstairs, the door to her bedroom is closed and she figures that Rachel must already be in there. She heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth quickly before heading back to the room. When she pulls the door open, her heart starts to beat a little faster and she takes to leaning onto the doorframe for a moment to steady herself as she stares at the scene in front of her. Rachel is seated on the edge of the bed, leaning back onto her hands, her bare, days-long legs extended in front of her, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Her hair is slightly wet and mussed from the snow fight and she's biting her lower lip quite seductively.

Santana swallows thickly before she finds herself actually able to produce sound. "What are you doing?" she lets out as a playful whisper, keeping in mind that her mother _is_ in the next room.

Rachel wears a bit of a lopsided grin as she speaks. "Waiting for you," she lets out at an equally soft volume.

Santana smirks lightly, running her thumb down the wood of the frame supporting her at the moment. "And what if I were to _keep_ you waiting?" she asks teasingly with an eyebrow raised.

Rachel glances over at the clock on the nightstand. "Well, that really depends on how _long_ we're talking..." she draws out playfully as she locks eyes with the standing girl once more.

Santana's heart starts to beat even faster, but she steps into the room completely and closes the door behind herself with a soft click―Zee narrowly managing to scurry in without getting her tail clipped by the door. Rachel pushes herself further back onto the bed, bringing her outstretched legs up onto the fabric and crossing them daintily. She reaches one hand forward to run it up the length of her thigh, drifting past her centre, pulling her shirt up along the way as she moves up her stomach, letting the shirt drop back down as she trails the hand further through her cleavage, up her throat and across her lips, before nestling the tip of her index finger between her teeth.

Santana licks her lips slightly at the sight. She doesn't want to tear her eyes away from the girl ready and waiting on her bed, but she suddenly remembers that she's still in wet clothes. She keeps her eyes locked on Rachel's as she quickly pulls off her top, dropping it to the floor, leaving her in her bra and jeans. She reaches clumsy hands down towards her waistband and starts to struggle, embarrassingly so, with the button of her jeans. She begrudgingly turns her attention down to the abysmal piece of metal safely nestled in its denim home, once again thinking that someone should hang for having invented this shit.

Rachel watches the display with a smirk and raises a questioning eyebrow. "Having trouble?" she teases airily.

Santana stops the movement of her hands, which seem to have gone completely lame, anyway. "Uh, yeah..." she draws out as she looks back to the girl on the bed. "I seem to have forgotten how to work a button fly..." she explains with a bit of a blush.

Rachel smiles wide before she pushes off of the bed and starts to slowly approach. Santana immediately notices how the girl's nipples are poking through the thin fabric of her shirt and becomes utterly aware of the fact that her bra is no longer an obstacle. She can feel her eyes darken at the realization and she unconsciously licks her lips.

Rachel walks right up to her, in so amazingly close, and nips lightly at her chin before speaking in the sexiest voice that Santana's sure she's ever heard.

"Let's see if I can help you with that," she husks out before biting and tugging at Santana's slightly agape lower lip.

At this point Santana's half sure her knees are poised to give out, but Rachel tugs firm on the waistband of her pants, keeping her upright. Their lips meet again, though there's far less tenderness this time, a seeming sense of urgency having set in. Santana runs her hands under the diva's shirt, along her bare sides, and Rachel's hands deftly dispose of the button and fly on the ex-cheerio's jeans.

Once they're undone, Rachel's hands slide beneath the waistband of her jeans, drifting around to start to palm her ass. Rachel uses her slight weight to push Santana back against the door and Santana almost gasps into the girl's mouth in surprise. She quickly decides that she kinda _loves_ this slightly inebriated, super aggressive version of Rachel that she's only met once before.

Rachel's hands slide down a little further, pushing the jeans down with them. She breaks the kiss to tug the jeans down to Santana's knees, and Santana takes over from there, kicking them the rest of the way off as she reaches a hand down to pull Rachel back up to her faster. Their mouths meet again, and a surprisingly bold Rachel lets her hand brush over the thin lace covering Santana's centre. That's all it takes to effectively awaken the pent up yearning within her.

She roughly tugs up on the t-shirt that the diva is wearing, and Rachel really has no choice but to raise her arms in acquiescence. Santana tosses the fabric aside, and as Rachel's arms come back down to rest on broad shoulders, her breasts settle with a bounce. Santana's eyes go incredibly darker and her mouth runs completely dry as her eyes drift over the girl, and her hands automatically latch onto newly exposed skin.

She starts to palm at Rachel's breasts as they kiss again, taking slow steps to push the diva back towards the bed. They move almost seamlessly from a standing position to Santana straddling Rachel on the bedspread, as she has so many times before, their tongues maintaining their fast, somewhat sloppy exchange. When Santana brushes her thumbs across Rachel's nipples, the shorter girls pulls away for air, and Santana takes to kissing down her throat once more. She gives Rachel's collarbone extra attention as she sucks on the patch of skin there and lets her hands start to run up and down the diva's abs, raking her nails lightly along the contracting skin.

Rachel muffles a moan with her hand, and Santana smiles against her sternum as she starts to work her way further down. She leads a trail of kisses down through the valley of the girl's breasts, continuing the tracks of her nails along firm abs. She kisses at the bottom of one of the diva's breasts before swirling her tongue up and around the nipple, soon taking the sensitive bud between her lips and rolling it gently between her teeth as she raises her hand to give the girl's other breast some love, too.

Rachel's breathing is rapid and uneven already, and Santana soon switches sides, lavishing the other breast with oral attention as well. She takes her time, wanting to make Rachel feel comfortable, feel ready for what's happening. She lets her hands linger as her mouth departs, lightly kneading breasts as she lets her tongue trail further down. Rachel's abs are already contracting violently, and when Santana lightly sucks on the muscled skin, the girl's hips cant up at her chest. She chuckles, and lets her hands drift down, pushing Rachel down flat against the bed again.

She spends a short while circling Rachel's bellybutton before moving even further down, and she hears the rustling of Rachel reaching out to grab a pillow and placing it over her mouth. She shoots her eyes up briefly to see it, and it makes her smirk. She runs her tongue along the waistband of Rachel's lace panties as she manoeuvres one of the diva's thighs to rest over her shoulder. She starts to place tender kisses along the inside of the thigh draped over her as her hands slide down and she hooks them under the sides of the diva's waistband.

"_Santana_," Rachel moans out breathlessly, making the ex-cheerio smile against taut skin.

Santana starts to trail her kisses further up the girl's thigh, inching ever-closer to her final destination.

"Santana," another moan comes, this one more frantic.

Santana readies herself before lowering and swiping her tongue up the length of Rachel's slit through the absolutely soaking wet fabric found there.

Rachel bucks up hard against Santana's mouth, and the sound she releases is absolutely indescribable... however, it's also released at an absolutely indescribable volume.

Santana stills and lifts her head, and silence passes over the room, both girls waiting to see whether they've roused any signs of life from the room next door. A few tense moments pass before Rachel's voice can be heard again.

"Santana, _no_," she whispers out firmly.

Santana's brow furrows, and she removes herself from beneath the diva's thigh before rising to her hands and staring down at her girlfriend in confusion.

"No," Rachel repeats with a shake of her head, reaching a hand down towards the girl. "Come back to me," she says softly, pleadingly.

Santana has no clue what's going on at the moment, her head clouded with lust and alcohol, but nods, doing as the girl requests. She slowly drags herself up the diva's body, letting her abs brush along the girl's centre as she does. Rachel's unable to control another moan, one loud enough that Santana actually reaches a hand up to clamp it over the girl's mouth. She starts to think that with how loud the girl is on a day-to-day basis, she probably should've figured that she'd be just as loud during sex.

Once she's eye level with the girl beneath her, she leans down slightly. "Shh," she breathes out. "We're not alone, remember?" she smiles, gesturing her head slightly towards the wall.

Rachel nods lightly, and Santana removes her hand, quickly replacing it with her mouth. She leans in and brushes her lips against full ones tenderly before starting to absolutely devour them. She kisses Rachel with all she has, all that she is, and she lets a hand start to drift down the diva's body as Rachel's hands tangle in her hair, pulling her impossibly further in.

Santana continues the path of her fingers, tiptoeing along the waistband of Rachel's panties, but when she flattens her hand to slide beneath the threshold, Rachel tugs firmly at her hair, ripping their lips apart. Santana stills, and her eyes slide open to see black eyes staring pointedly at her.

"No," Rachel repeats weakly with a shake of her head, and Santana sighs as she retracts her hand.

She wants to be angry... she really, _really_ does. She's so drunk and horny right now that the only thing she wants to do is eat Rachel alive, but she knows she should have seen this coming. Rachel told her she's not ready, and being drunk doesn't change that. On the flipside, though, there is such a horrible frustration building within her that she's not even sure how to handle it. Essentially, Rachel has given her the green light twice now only to pull away again. It's all just really fucking confusing.

Santana's silent for a long moment, trying to sift through her conflicting emotions, and she's silent long enough that Rachel runs a hand down to her cheek. She leans into the contact and refocuses on the eyes beneath her.

"I'm sorry," Rachel says softly, and Santana bites back her reflexive groan, rather just nodding before rolling off of the girl and taking to staring at the ceiling.

Her heart is still racing and her mind is keeping pace. There's a heavy throbbing between her legs and the alcohol swimming through her body is doing nothing to keep it at bay. She wonders if she can keep doing this, if she can put up with all the touching and teasing without the payoff, but she doesn't have much time to wonder before Rachel rolls on top of her.

She looks up at the girl in utter shock―this has really just been a night _full_ of surprises. Rachel is wearing a mischievous smile and she starts to let her hands wander over exposed skin.

"Rach," Santana breathes out hesitantly, but Rachel just raises a hand to her cheek before leaning in to kiss her softly.

"Shh," she lets out, making sure Santana's eyes meet her own. "Just because _I'm_ not ready doesn't mean _you're_ not ready, and I understand that," she says with a soft smile.

A part of Santana really wants to object, but she's just so fucking primed right now that she can't imagine being able to fall asleep without getting her end away. Once again, though, she doesn't have much time for thought as Rachel reaches down and cups her through her panties. Santana can't control the movement of her hips, which buck up hard, and Rachel smirks as she leans down to her ear.

"And you feel _more_ than ready right now..." she trails off seductively before nibbling on Santana's earlobe.

Santana shivers, but sighs silently, looking up at the ceiling and wondering why she's doing this, something she honestly feels is a horrible idea, but soon Rachel's lips are on hers again, small hands working along her body, and she's just so fucking lost in it that she can't even fathom saying no.

With Rachel on top of her, she feels exposed, out of control, and uncomfortably vulnerable. It's the first time in a while and only the second person that she's let have her this way, but she lets it happen. When Rachel's fingers slide through her, _into_ her, she falls into the feel of it, the familiarity bringing her temporary solace.

It's awkward again, Rachel not exactly being a practiced pro at getting down to business, but she seems to remember enough that she's pushing at least some of the right buttons. And, when it comes time for the big show, she remembers the most important button.

Santana comes hard, with Rachel's hand inside of her and Rachel's mouth on hers, muffling the sounds of her release. Once the sensation passes over, though, Santana feels oddly uncomfortable, slightly empty, and it's more than a little disconcerting.

It's a few moments before Rachel looks down at her, seemingly for approval, and she lets a smile set across her face. She tugs Rachel down for a soft, reassuring kiss before simply yawning and letting her eyes drift shut, feeling absolutely spent.

Rachel settles down onto her side―a head of brown hair in the crook of her shoulder, a small arm wrapped protectively around her midsection, a soft leg hooked around her own―and Santana uses her last bit of strength to crane her neck and place a soft kiss on the top of the diva's head, smirking as she lets her hand drift to lightly pinch the girl's ass.

Rachel squeaks lightly before slapping her shoulder playfully. "Go to sleep now. It's late," she whispers out against bare skin.

Santana nods with a yawn. "G'night, my princess," she sighs out.

Rachel chuckles softly against her shoulder, tightening the arm around her body. "Good night, my knight."

The simple term of endearment is just that: simple, but it makes Santana smile―a genuine smile this time―as she fully relaxes.

_Yeah, I can make it through this_, she thinks to herself as she yawns again, and she's almost positive it's true.

* * *

**The song Rachel and Santana slow dance to is 'Falling in Love' by Taio Cruz. (I was picturing the acoustic version.)**

**Thanks for sticking with me, guys :)**


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